


In The Beginning

by Karl5



Series: SOMETHING A LITTLE DIFFERENT [1]
Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 05:16:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 48,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karl5/pseuds/Karl5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After X-2, Kurt is considering what to do next.  My slant on how he gets involved in the climax of X-3, then finds himself attracted to Logan despite his own religious issues.  They take a very interesting vacation on Cape Cod, in order to spend time together and try to resolve what they want from each other, if anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Beginning

IN THE BEGINNING . . . Pt 1

 

The town described in this story is a real place, and everything (with the exception of mutants) in the story is really there. I lived in Provincetown many years ago and I just recently went back to visit. I have included the URLs to many of the places and things mentioned in the story, in case you’re curious. Unfortunately, I do not know how to create active links to those sites, so they need to be cut-and-pasted.  
German translations at the end of each Part. 

 

“How did Logan and I first get together? Vell, do you vant the short version or the long one? I must varn you that the long version is very long indeed.

“All right, if you are sure you vish to hear all the details, I vill be glad to tell you about it. I have nothing else I must do for a couple of hours anyvay, since I do not need to teach my next class until 4 o’clock this afternoon.  
“I vill have to give you a fairly detailed recap of the events that led to my meeting Logan in the first place, not to mention vhy I stayed in this country so long after the much-publicized happenings at Alkali Lake, so please bear vith me. You may know some of this, but I doubt that you know all of it. Very few people do.”

 

It all began about 4 and a half years ago. The first time I saw Logan was when William Stryker tried to start a government campaign against mutants by drugging me and forcing me to attempt to assassinate the United States president. As you doubtless know, that plan did not succeed and in the end, the X-Men were able to destroy his secret facility and discredit him completely. 

I was in the Blackbird, having been previously picked up by Storm and Jean, when we landed again in Boston to pick up Logan and the others at Bobby Drake’s house. The moment I saw Logan, I knew there was something interesting about him. Much to my subsequent embarrassment, I tried to impress him by telling him I was known as the Incredible Nightcrawler in the Munich Circus. He was not the least bit impressed. In fact, he was downright rude.

However, I did gain some favor in his eyes after my daring rescue of Rogue, when the missile hit our jet. It may sound like a fairly easy thing to do, but I had never before attempted to catch someone in mid-air and bring them back to an airplane in flight, and I did not know for certain that it would work. Do not ask me why I thought she would be safer in a plane that was on a collision course with the ground at the time. It just seemed right somehow for us all to be together.

After that, things moved along very quickly. I could not help but notice Logan’s feelings for Jean while we were all camped together with Magneto and Mystique. She seemed to be a very admirable woman, so I could not blame him for being attracted to her, even though she was already involved with Scott.

For the rest of that adventure, I did not see too much of Logan, except when he led us to the exit of the power plant. However, I did get closer to Storm during that time. I could almost have fallen in love with her, had things gone differently. She is very beautiful and very brave, a combination I cannot help but admire. 

Then Jean died getting the plane off the ground. I tried to rescue her, but she somehow prevented me from teleporting, to my shock and surprise.

I remember Logan holding on to Scott, making him realize that Jean was dead and there was nothing more he could do about it. I can still see the look of despair on his face, when Scott began crying on his shoulder, and yet he repeated “She is gone” several times more, as if he still needed to convince himself that it was true. I wanted to hold him and comfort him, as he was attempting to do for Scott, but, of course, that was not my place. The best I could do was recite parts of the Twenty-Third Psalm, hoping it would provide solace to the others in this unhappy situation.

 

After Alkali Lake, I remained at the Mansion for nearly a month, debating what I should do next. Everything seemed awkward. Despite the presence of many other mutants, I felt as if I did not truly belong. I know that I am a misfit even among misfits, due to my appearance, but I could so clearly recall how much at home I had felt in the circus, where I was simply one of many other unusual people. Although the X-Men and their students tried very hard to make me feel welcome, especially after Professor Xavier invited me to stay on at the School, it did not feel quite right. Maybe everyone was still in shock over Jean’s death.

I saw Logan on and off during that month, but we both seemed uncomfortable around each other. I tried to get to know him better, but although we were outwardly friendly, there was nevertheless something vaguely unsettling between us. I think he was mourning for Jean during that time, but he did not want anyone else to realize how deeply he had been hurt. Often I would see him standing in front of her monument, usually in the evening when few other people were around.

I wasn’t exactly spying on him, but let us say I was very sensitive to his presence, noticing him whenever he came into view in a way I did not notice others. I suppose at some level I knew I found him sexually attractive, however, as a good Catholic, I was not looking for such a thing. Yes, I had fallen from grace numerous times over the years, but never with a man. Having been exposed to far too much and too many kinds of sex in my childhood, I had long ago decided I wanted nothing that would remind me of that time in my life. Indeed, until fairly recently, I have tried very hard not to even remember it, much less think about it. 

As the month drew to an end, I felt I must get away from the School for a time, in order to think things through. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go back to Germany, or stay here. I decided the first thing to do would be to travel around and learn more about this country, before I made up my mind.

I told Professor Xavier about my decision. The rest of the X-Men wished me well, though I got the feeling from Storm that she might be concerned about the wisdom of my choice, given the circumstances. Admittedly, my feelings were mixed.  
On the day I left, Logan was off somewhere doing something on his own, as he often does. I was just as glad that I didn’t have to say good-bye to him also.

Slowly, a bit at a time, I made my way from the East coast to the West. I had some money saved up from my successful career with the circus, but not enough to keep me going forever. Since I had neither driver’s license nor car, and I could not just board a plane or bus without creating a sensation, I chose instead to travel by train, in my own way. It was easy enough to teleport into empty boxcars on freight trains as long as the door was open and I could see where I was going, even if the train was moving quite fast. If there were no open doors, I could always just teleport onto the top of any of the cars and hang on there, if I really needed the ride.

To this day, I feel a burst of nostalgia whenever I see or hear a freight train rolling by. The sound of that lonely whistle always brings me a bittersweet pang of memory.

This sort of travel was also very cheap, and a good way to see the countryside. If I wanted to stop somewhere and look around, I could always do that, albeit often only late at night, when no one would notice my presence. Stores that were closed for the night provided an abundant source of food. I was careful to leave the correct amount of money on the counter, so it was not exactly stealing, although I may not have always gotten the taxes exactly right. 

I kept in touch with Storm and the School via a cell phone. Storm had suggested one called a Jitterbug, which had larger keys that worked better with my fingers, but I still often had to use the point of my tail to avoid hitting too many keys at once. Now and then, Professor Xavier would check on me telepathically, but that contact abruptly stopped partway into my trip. Storm later told me what had happened, and it saddened me very much to know he was dead. And not only that, but dead by Jean’s hand. That was the first I knew about Jean being somehow alive again, but having rejected the X-Men and joined Magneto’s band of mutants. I didn’t know all the details, but I knew it was not good.

I had time to consider many things during my travels. Would I fit in with the X-Men? It had felt wonderful sitting on the mantel in the President’s office and realizing that my actions had had an impact on the world. Being an X-Man could allow me to do that again. Or perhaps teaching at Professor Xavier’s School would be a rewarding vocation, if I preferred not to face the violence surrounding the X-Men?

Then again, I could go back to Germany and try to join another circus, now that the original deal in the USA had fallen through. I recalled wistfully my life as a performer, and the way the others had accepted me as one of them. But now that mutants were becoming more generally recognized for what they were, could I really last much longer as an attraction? I doubted it. I was too well-known to the general public for trying to assassinate the American President.

During my travels, I heard about the mutant cure that had been developed, which started my thoughts along entirely new lines. Would it work for me, and even if it did, would I really want it? What would I look like? Normal, or just lose my ability to teleport? What could I do if I were just a normal person? 

As you can imagine, all this had my mind in turmoil. And that was without even adding my thoughts about Logan into the mix.

However, during my trip, I saw lots of gorgeous scenery and came to realize at a visceral level just how big this country truly is, compared to Germany, or all of Europe, for that matter.

I also saw the poorer sides of many towns and cities, as railroad tracks do not usually run through the wealthy part of town. That was eye-opening in itself.

I saw many things, and even occasionally met some interesting people who were also wandering around and catching rides on trains as I was. I had reached the West Coast and was following the railroad lines around California when Storm called and told me the X-Men were on their way to Alcatraz Island because of what Magneto was doing. She said they were in dire need of all the help they could get, if I might be willing to join them. Despite all the questions I still had, I did not hesitate to tell her I would be there as soon as possible.

It did not take me long, as I was just outside San Francisco when I heard from her.

As it happened, I arrived before the X-Men did, just in time to see Magneto moving part of the Golden Gate Bridge to Alcatraz Island. As soon as it had settled into its new location, I ‘ported out onto the bridge, staying well behind Magneto’s mob of assorted mutants. I found many people trapped in wrecked cars, some of whom were injured. The best I could do was to get them out of the cars using my teleportation skills, in order that they could get as far away from the battle as possible. Some of the people I rescued were more terrified of me than they were of their situation, but that didn’t matter, as I didn’t give them enough time to even think about resisting my help. 

It wasn’t long before the X-Men appeared on the scene, fighting with Magneto’s forces in the open courtyard in front of the main prison building. I caught a glimpse of Logan at the forefront of the battle, as usual. I would have gone to help them, but Magneto began tossing cars around, with Pyro setting them on fire on the way. Since no one seemed to care whether any of those cars still had people inside them, I moved closer to the action, seeking to save the ones in the most immediate danger. The majority of the cars were empty, but I did have one close call when I ‘ported into a car to rescue an elderly couple. The car began to lift into the air as soon as I got in, but I took them out at least 3 seconds before it was ignited, so no harm was done.

The car tossing ended soon after that, and a dense fog rose up rapidly from the surrounding water, its sudden appearance a sure sign that it had been Storm’s handiwork.

From where I was crouching behind a car, I could see Jean standing on the end of the bridge. For a moment, it appeared as if the fighting might be over, but then a troop of heavily armed soldiers ran past me, heading for the island.

As soon as Jean noticed the soldiers, all hell broke loose, as she attacked them with all the awesome power that was hers. The top floor of the prison building collapsed, with debris flying everywhere. She rose into the air, moving off the bridge to land on top of a pile of cars and assorted other wreckage. 

No sooner had she landed than walls of water rose around the island. Even as the water engulfed me, I caught a glimpse of soldiers being vaporized and dissolving into thin air.

Instantly, I ‘ported out of the rising waves of water, intending to land on top of the prison building, hoping it was still there. It was, but a few feet lower than I had figured, so I landed hard on the rubble. A sharp pain ran up my tail, but I ignored it in favor of getting myself into a place where I could look over the fragmented walls of the building and see what was happening in the battle.

Partly across the courtyard, I saw Jean below me, an aura of flames surrounding her head and upper body, a look on her face that was terrible to behold even at a distance. It was as if she was possessed by something. The Jean I knew would never have casually slaughtered all those people. Since I can blend into shadows and dark places with relative ease, at least I was at little risk of being spotted. 

Fires burned everywhere. Rubble flew around as if in the midst of a tornado. Wind roared in my ears, threatening to displace me from my perch, but I held fast, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. Anyone still alive was fleeing onto the bridge, often with an X-Man leading them to safety. 

Only one man still stood. Above the surrounding tumult, I heard Logan shout, “Jean! I know you’re still there!!”

As he staggered toward her, waves of energy seemed to flow outwards from her body, engulfing him in a fierce blast of heat and radiation. I could feel the edges of that blast on my face, but could not tear my stinging eyes from the scene. I was frantic to do something, but there was nothing I could do against such an outburst of raw power. 

His leather uniform burned away, then his flesh, exposing the shine of his adamantium-laced bones in brief patches, as his skin repeatedly healed and was as quickly destroyed. I willed him to stop before he took so much damage that even he could not survive. I was tempted to try ‘porting down and taking him away, but I knew that was not what he would have wanted.

And still he came on, struggling up onto the wreckage where she stood. Finally, he confronted Jean directly. 

I was not close enough to hear what they said to each other, and yet somehow I heard it in my mind, as if I had been caught at the edge of a telepathic bond that had formed between them. Yet it was more than just words, it was feelings also. Logan’s love for her and his fierce determination not to fail her. A faint echo of the incredible agony he was enduring just to stand before her. 

“You would die for them?” she demanded harshly, fixing her awful eyes on him.

“No. Not for them. For you,” came the tortured answer, as if drawn from his very soul. He hesitated, struggling to hold his ground, then repeated, “For you.”

His love for Jean washed over me also as he fed her his hopes and his dreams. All the things he had learned from her and all he wanted to give back to her in turn, but knew he would never get a chance.

Around all that, I felt her struggle against the inexorable force that held and used her, blaming herself for letting it take over her body, her innermost self screaming in desperation to be freed, no matter what the cost, before she could do even more damage to the world. Or to the man she loved. And yet, she must hurt him more cruelly than ever, in order to stop the monster that she had unleashed.

“Save me,” she begged.

I knew what she was asking, and so did Logan. What I did not know was whether he would have the strength and courage to grant her request. He looked ready to cry. They stared at each other for a couple of seconds. 

Then I heard him say hopelessly, “I love you,” just before he ran his claws through her body, and caught her as she collapsed.

Peace swept over me as Jean died, combined with Logan’s overwhelming grief at what he had had to do in order to grant her last request. Then the telepathic bond was shattered. The tornado of rubbish slowed its circling, and the wall of water began to collapse. 

By the time Logan screamed, “Nooooo!” it was quiet enough for me to hear his voice with nothing more than my ears.

Tears ran from my burning eyes for his despair, and for the loss of a wonderful woman who had clearly been overcome by something that no human could control, and yet had vanquished it in the end. I sobbed uncontrollably, partly from the aftermath of the telepathic emotions I had felt, but mostly from my own grief. 

All around the island, the water cascaded back into the bay. Bits of wreckage abruptly fell to the ground. I was about to ‘port down to Logan. I never saw the chunk of wood that landed on top of me, knocking me unconscious.

I found out later on that Storm had found me while searching for casualties and brought me to the Blackbird. I didn’t come to for an hour or so, and by then I was safely in the infirmary at the Mansion.

 

Other than a hideous headache and a very unfamiliar feeling of dizziness and lack of balance that lasted for several days as a result of concussion, I was in pretty good condition, with nothing more than cuts and bruises and a sprained tail, although my face felt as if I had been severely sunburned by whatever sort of energy Jean had been using. The CT scan showed no major brain damage, but they kept me on bed rest until the symptoms went away. At first, I had trouble pulling up any memory of what had happened just prior to my injury, but it returned slowly as I recovered, so I was able to give an account of my involvement in the battle. However, I still hadn’t made up my mind about what I planned to do next.

 

On the last night I was to remain in the infirmary, I was having a dream about flying, with Storm pressed close against me, carrying us joyously through the sky. Mostly we were in the clear blue areas between white and puffy clouds, but suddenly she darted into one of those clouds and we were wrapped in soft cocoons of cotton. (Of course, I know perfectly well that clouds are not cotton and flying through them is like flying through thick fog, but this was, after all, merely a dream.)

Inside this cloud, she glanced over at me, her eyes pure white. I knew my own eyes were glowing golden, as they do in times of excitement and arousal. She smiled and winked at me. Our clothing disappeared. Strong and shapely legs wrapped around my waist as she settled her warm wetness down onto my stiff penis and—

I awoke with a jarring moment of startlement, but also with an aching erection. So I did as I normally do in such circumstances, and took matters into my own hand. As I stroked my stiff cock, I recalled moments from that sweet dream of delight. However, I found those moments mingling with flashes of Logan’s body, naked, bleeding, scoured by Jean’s awesome power, skin burning down to shiny bone, then regenerating almost as rapidly as it had disappeared. His uniform was gone entirely, and even his genitals were caught in that same agonizing equilibrium between destruction and regeneration.

And I responded to both images, male and female. I worked my cock faster and faster, turning my moans of pleasure into stifled gasps.

And then I heard a small noise inside the room. My eyes flashed open and I stopped what I was doing, instantly alert to possible danger as I heard the chair in the corner squeak as it did when someone sat down or stood up, and I saw who was there.

“Logan?” I exclaimed softly, as he stepped out of the shadows and approached the side of my bed.  
“Don’t let me interfere with what you’re doing,” he replied in a strange tone of voice.

“Uh – Vas?”

“Hey, it’s not like we aren’t both men. Ya think you’re the only one who jerks himself off now and then?” There was an intent look on his face, mingled with what might equally well have been embarrassment or desire.

Tentatively, I squeezed my cock. Yes, it was still very interested in what I had been doing before we were so rudely interrupted. In fact, it was still almost ready to let go.

Logan smiled. “Mind if I join you?” he asked, unfastening his belt and pulling his jeans down over his hips.

At that point, I would have willingly had him leap into bed on top of me and fuck my brains out, but he was apparently not quite willing to go to that extreme, only working his engorged penis out of his pants and grasping it with his hand, stroking himself just as I was now doing.

I could not take my eyes off of that cock. Not that it was all that extraordinary, except maybe in girth. Even with it fully erect, I could see that, like me, he was not circumcised, since he was able to slide his foreskin partly over the glans as he worked his hand back and forth. 

Then I thought of how that cock would feel inside me, and I came hard, my semen spurting onto my abdomen, my eyes still fastened to his penis like a dog on a bone.

“Oh, fuck,” he gasped slowly, watching me. I reached for the box of tissues next to the bed, but he blocked my hand with no explanation beyond a quiet, “Leave it there. Please.”

In another moment, he ejaculated also, holding his pumping cock so that the fluid fell onto my belly and merged with my own.

For a brief time, we both stared at what we had done. I had no idea what to say, but I had recovered my sanity long enough to wonder what he was feeling: satisfaction or disgust?

By now, I had let go of my own penis, so the small scars that ran down the top surface of the shaft were no longer covered by my hand. Logan had to have noticed that, but, unlike many others, he did not ask about them.

Instead, a strange sort of shit-eating grin spread over his face. “Makes a pretty picture like that, what with the splatters of white against your blue skin and those scars on your belly, don’t it?”

With that, Logan pulled up his jeans and left the room.

I did not clean our cum off my body until morning. In fact, I added more to the design before I could fall asleep, and this time the images in my head were all of Logan.

After that, there was the usual dithering around over what had happened. Was it a fluke? Something he wanted? Just a case of being swept along in the heat of the moment? Does he want it to continue or was he just horny? Having a reaction to Jean’s death? Just felt like jerking off or hoping for a reason to find an opening with me? Casual sex, or did he take it seriously? A beginning of something, or nothing of any significance at all?

And what exactly had he been doing in my room in the first place?

After I got out of the infirmary, I was given one of the guest rooms at the School. I tried to tell myself what had happened with Logan had been an aberration. He was probably still trying to recover from killing the woman he loved, so he just wasn’t thinking straight. However, that wouldn’t explain his presence in my room that night. Of course, I did not know him very well back then, so I was basically trying to reason in a vacuum.

As for me, I had to admit I was attracted to him and had been from the first moment we had met, but what did that mean, if it meant anything at all? I have found many people attractive over the years, both male and female, but it has very seldom led to anything, since my conscience generally squelched such feelings before they could become actions. I had long ago settled on masturbation as the least of all possible sexual sins. Given my appearance, perhaps that was for the best.

As for Logan, did he even consider sex with men? Virtually all I knew about him was that he had loved a woman and lost her in the worst way possible. 

And yet – and yet—my eyes followed him around whenever he was in sight and I could not get enough of watching him. However, if our eyes met, we both quickly looked away. Revulsion? Or attraction, which neither of us dared to acknowledge?

After a week of this, I had had enough. Time to take the bull by the tail – or is it by the horns? I cannot remember. American idioms have always confounded me, even though I have been in this country for some years now and I knew basic English even before that. I suppose I could even get rid of my accent if I tried hard, but I do not want to. It marks me for what I am: a foreigner in this country. In a world where I must often hide my true appearance, I do not wish to hide anything else any more than I must.

But let us get back to Logan. I had noticed that he was not usually to be found in the midst of a group of people, but rather off by himself. It was late afternoon before I got up the nerve to act. I sought out an opportunity to find him and speak to him in private. I was not sure what I wanted to say, but I needed to get to know him better, one way or another.

Not finding him anywhere inside the Mansion, I went outside to stroll around the grounds and think things over, only to discover Logan standing by himself in front of Jean’s Memorial.

For a time, I just watched from a distance, enjoying the fresh air that had finally become warm with the approach of early summer. He did nothing but stand there, looking anguished. His lips moved as if he were praying, or perhaps talking to the dead woman. 

Slowly, I wandered over in his direction, hoping to make it appear we had just met by accident.

Without turning around, he said, “Kurt, I know you’re there. Come on over. It’s all right.”

“How could you tell?”

“I can smell ya a mile away.”

I made a face of astonished shock. “I smell that bad?”

“Nah. I can recognize most folks just by their normal scent. The distance varies according to the wind direction. I’ve got a nose like a bloodhound. One of my mutant talents.”

“Oh.”

For too long a time, we stood there in silence staring at the monument together. Finally, I ventured a remark. “I did not know her very vell, but Jean vas surely a remarkable voman.”

Logan sighed heavily, then turned to face me. “You’re here because of what happened that night in the infirmary, aren’t you?”

“Ja. I vish to know vhy you vere there, sitting in the darkness vhile I slept.”

“Is that all?”

“Vell, as you said, ve are both men and –”

He cut me off before I could finish. “Let’s stick to the original question, OK? Storm told me you saw what happened at Alcatraz, when I killed Jean. I just wanted to ask you something about that, but you were asleep, so I figured I’d wait for you to wake up. Then, when you did, you –”

This time, I cut him off. “Vhat vas it that you vished to ask me?”

“I’ve been playin’ that scene over and over in my head, wondering if I interpreted things wrong, that maybe she didn’t really want me to kill her and I –”

He choked up and turned away, clearly trying to get himself under control. “What if I hadn’t –”

“Do not even think it. You had no other choice, and she knew vhat she vas asking vhen she begged you to save her.”

“How can you be so sure?”

It was several months later when I felt comfortable telling him that I had been an involuntary eavesdropper on their telepathic contact, so I tried to come up with a more neutral reason. “Jean vas a brave voman, who vould give her life for others, if necessary. She already proved that, at Alkali Lake. Vhy should it be different at Alcatraz, vhen the stakes vere even higher?”

“You’re probably right. I just can’t feel it,” he said wretchedly, “Oh, Jean, forgive me! I’ve failed you twice, once at Alkali Lake and now again! What’s wrong with me, that I can never save the ones I truly love?!”

Despite the grief in his voice, his face as I could see it in profile was set in an expression of concentrated anger. Another man in these circumstances might have been fighting tears, but not this man.

At a loss as to what to do, I tried consoling him with words. “You did save her, in the only way that vas possible. There vas nothing more you could have done.”

“This is what happens to all the people that I care about,” he went on, staring with narrowed eyes at the monument. “They all die. I see them in my dreams. Faces. Women, and sometimes men. I don’t even remember who they all are, but I know I cared about them and they’re dead.”

The only indication of the hurt he was keeping inside was the blood dripping from his hands, as the tips of his claws pierced his skin. I guessed that happened at times when he felt something very deeply, although I was far from being sure of that. Maybe the rage he was showing was the real cause. Either way, I desperately wanted to do something to ease his pain.

“How many times have you saved lives?” I asked, laying a tentative hand on his shoulder. “How many people are alive now because of you?”

“Not enough! Never enough!” came the fierce reply. But he did not push my hand away.

I could not help it. His despair cried out for something more than words. Sliding my hand around to his other shoulder, I held him lightly against my side. “You are not God, Logan. You cannot save everyone. You are very strong and your claws make you even more deadly, but you vill not alvays vin. No one alvays vins, in this life.”

I do not know how long we stood there together, but eventually he pulled his claws back and shook his head, like an animal throwing something off its neck. I took that as a cue to remove my arm from his shoulder.

“Oh shit! I’m sorry, Kurt. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“It is all right, mein Freund. Really.”

He ran his hands through his unruly hair. Then he took in a deep breath, and exhaled. “At least I got the answer to that question I wanted to ask you. I guess I just needed to hear it from a more objective observer.”

“Ja. That can mean a lot sometimes. I am glad I could help.” I looked around in the gathering dusk. “It is almost suppertime. Vill you come inside vith me?”

“No. I need to stay here a little longer and pull myself together. You go ahead, OK?”

I nodded, recognizing his desire to be alone. I left him standing there, outlined by the setting sun.

 

The next morning, I was eating a late breakfast in the cafeteria when Logan appeared beside me and sat down. 

“‘Morning, Kurt. Sorry if I startled you.”

“For a man your size and veight, you can move very quietly.”

“Lots of practice, that’s all.”

“How do you like the food here?” he asked, as we ate. 

“Vell, the cafeteria does a very good job, but I do miss the food in Germany, especially the delicious sausages that seem to have migrated to this country and promptly become bland and boring. And they are called, for reasons I cannot fathom, ‘hot dogs’. At first, I imagined the Americans actually ate dogs.”

A very slight smile crossed his face. He drained his coffee mug, setting it back down on the table and then turning to me decisively. “I know you were traveling around to see more of this country, to decide if you wanted to stay here or go back to Germany.”

I nodded, wondering where this was going.

“So have you made up your mind?”

I shook my head.

“Then how about we take off together for a week and I’ll show ya a place I bet you didn’t see on that cross-country train ride? Doesn’t need to cost a lot of money either. We could travel by motorcycle and stay at a campground.”

“A motorcycle? I have never ridden such a thing,” I replied, trying not to show too much surprise at this proposal. 

“You wouldn’t have to do anything except sit there. I found a nice bike way in the back of the parking garage that used to belong to Scott. It’s a couple of years old, but it’s a touring bike, which means it’s meant to be comfortable for long trips and has extra storage space. It’s set up for two people, so I’m guessing he and Jean used to use it. It’s not one a’ them fancy Honda Gold Wings.”

As if I would know a Gold Wing if it flew into me.

“It’s a Hog, the Electra-Glide Classic.”

“Ve vould be riding a pig?”

He laughed. “Sorry, I forgot you’re not too familiar with motorcycles. A Hog is a Harley-Davidson, about as good a bike as you can get. Needs to be checked over real good, but I can do all that myself.” 

“Vhere vould ve go?”

“It’ll be a surprise. I know a place you might find interestin’, not too far north of here.” He shrugged. “Plenty of time after that for you to make your preparations to go to Germany or stay here, whatever you decide.”  
A whole week. With him. Did I dare?  
“Vhat about the X-Men?”

He shrugged.

“If they need me, they’ll know where to find me. I have a cell phone. Besides, things are likely to be pretty quiet for a while. After that major mess in San Francisco, both sides seem to be laying low and licking their wounds. Wanna go?”

Although I had no great desire to play tourist again, I did want to get to know Logan better, and this sounded as if it would be a perfect opportunity. However it turned out, I should be able to settle things one way or another with this man who had so thoroughly captured my interest. Not to mention my libido.

“So whaddya say? You up for such a thing?”

I pretended to consider it for a few moments, but I already knew what my answer would be. “Ja, I am certainly up for it.” Hoping I had gotten the idioms correct, I gave him a sideways look and added, “In more vays than one.”

His smile broadened. “I was hopin’ you’d say that. So, you wanna see the bike?”

“Ja.” 

“C’mon.” 

I followed him down to the parking garage, then back to a distant shadowy corner, where he pulled off the tarp covering the motorcycle.

It was big and black and shiny and had all sorts of confusing silver pipes and stuff all over the place. I had no idea how to ride such a machine, but the self-satisfied expression on Logan’s face made me certain that he could manage this monster without a problem.

“Pretty nice, huh?”

“There is not much space to carry things,” I observed tentatively.

“Are you kidding? Two panniers and another carrier on the back.” He touched each item as he mentioned it, which was fortunate or I might not have know what he was talking about. “Most bikes don’t have nearly as much storage space as this baby has.”

“Most cars do not have nearly this little,” I pointed out.

“True, but most cars aren’t nearly as much fun to ride either.”

“I vill – take your vord for that,” I replied, trying not to sound too dubious.

“Just look at this separate seat for a passenger. It’s got a back and armrests. You won’t have to hang onto me all the time.”

I smiled archly. “Perhaps I vould prefer to ride holding onto you.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t mind that much myself. But it can get uncomfortable for a long trip. And at least this gives you some back support.” He patted the other seat. “I’ll be sitting here. There are foot rests for you here and here.”

For a minute he stared at me with a strange look on his face, then added, “Too bad I haven’t gotten the bike going yet. We could have taken it for a test drive.”

I looked pointedly around the cluttered expanse of the underground parking lot. We were at the far end, where the less-used vehicles are stored. No one else was anywhere to be seen. I was not entirely sure what that odd smile meant, but I had a pretty good idea, so I tried to look encouraging and curious when I met his eyes.

“I suppose we could take it for a trial run, of sorts,” he said, rubbing his hand suggestively over his crotch.

“Ja, ve could. But how?” I glanced at the formidable size and complexity of the machine standing propped on its kickstand next to us.

“Easy. Take off your pants.”

“Vhat if someone –”

“No one’s down here. I’d hear them or smell them if they were.”

Still somewhat doubtful, I slipped out of my jeans, wincing as I pulled my tail through the hole I had cut into them.

“Tail still sore?” Logan asked.

“Ja. But mostly just if I move it the wrong way, down near the end.”

“I’m glad you lost those striped pants, buddy. Made you look as if you escaped from a bad fashion show.”

I smiled nervously as I stood there before him naked from the waist down. Surely, he would say something about the scar on my cock now, as it was clearly visible. “I had little choice, as the pants vere badly torn and soiled after Alcatraz.”

“I did kind of like that strange coat you had. Still got it?”

“Ja. It survived vith only minor damage that could be repaired vith a needle and thread and a dry cleaning. It is just too varm to vear around here most of the time. And perhaps just a little too melodramatic also.”

He went to the motorcycle, swung one leg over the back, and ended up standing there straddling the front seat, but facing backwards. “Now sit up there on the seat. Carefully. The bike won’t be exactly upright, but I can keep it steady on the kickstand by holding my leg against it. That’s it. Put your feet down here on the footrests, then spread your legs as wide as you can.”

I did as he requested. Now he absolutely must notice that scar and ask the usual question.

But no. All he said was, “See? That puts your cock just about level with mine. Now close your eyes and imagine the engine’s running, and we’re out on the road, the wind and the noise from the motor filling our ears and the vibration flowing up and into our bodies.”

“Uh – who is driving?”

“Don’t worry about that. Just picture it in your mind. Fucking while you’re riding a bike isn’t really a good idea, but it makes for a great fantasy.”

It took him a little time to get his pants down far enough to work his own cock free since he was straddling the bike, but then I felt it prodding against mine. I was already halfway hard, but as he guided his cockhead underneath and rubbed it against my balls, it was quickly inspired to stiffen further. Wrapping his arms around me, he pulled me forward, tighter up against his groin, until he could get his fist around both of our dicks and begin jerking us off together.

This was the first time he had actually touched my cock, and I delighted in that sensation. There’s something about having another person holding you that’s just different from doing it yourself. Perhaps simply because the rhythm is theirs, not yours, and that’s not what you’re used to. Or perhaps it’s just the idea that there’s someone else involved. Whatever it was, it took my breath away.

I didn’t want to remain totally uninvolved in the action, so I managed to get the tip of my tail between us, using it to rub against our straining cockheads. Doing it made my sprained tail hurt a bit, but it was well worth the pain.

Our imaginary ride didn’t take too long to reach its destination. I tried very hard to be quiet, but I could not suppress a rather loud moan as I came. Logan, however, was absolutely silent.

As we separated, it became quite apparent that we should have removed our shirts as well as our pants. I laughed and he grinned as we got off the motorcycle.

“I guess maybe we had better go up to our rooms the back way,” he suggested, never once letting on that it was unusual to have a scar running along my penis, even though he had held it in his own hand.  
I completely agreed with his suggestion.

I spent entirely too much of that night trying to decide if I should feel guilty about what we had done. Obviously, I had had a sexual encounter with a man, which is considered a sin in and of itself. While I had managed to justify masturbation as a necessary evil, perhaps this was really nothing more awful than mutual masturbation, no worse than what we had done together in the infirmary? But it had been Logan’s hand on me, not just me alone with myself. Did that really count as more sinful? Or could it be considered not quite sex?

I thought I knew what a priest would have said, but I convinced myself that it was all right. If nothing else, I could go to confession and be absolved for what would surely be a very minor sin. But I was going on a trip with Logan, and I knew where that might lead. Would I end up with yet another scar? Surely not. 

In the end, I settled on the idea that if all we used were our hands, it was not really sex and hence not forbidden. 

Yes, I am well aware that such an idea is at best merely a rationalization for something that I wanted to do, and had every intention of doing. But I sincerely doubt that I am the first man to come up with that excuse, and I won’t be the last. In any case, that was my thinking at the time, as well as I can remember it.

 

The following day Logan handed me a copy of the Motorcyclists’ Handbook from the local DMV. “Here ya go. Read this, so you’ll know a little something about how motorcycles work.”

“Is that necessary? I vill only be a passenger.”

“Even so, I want you to be aware of some of the safety issues. It’s not quite the same as being in a car. Come on, take it.” I still hesitated. “By the way, if you see that we’re in a bad situation and are sure to crash, don’t hesitate to teleport yourself out of danger. I’ll survive. You might not.”

“Umm. Maybe I could ‘port us both, cycle and all.”

“Maybe you could. But even if you can, you’d have to be able to realize the situation almost as soon as I did. All the more reason to read the safely manual, buddy.”

I finally took the booklet out of his hand. “Du hast recht. I vill read it.”

 

I had a terrible time deciding what to take, since there was not much storage space, despite what Logan had said. When he told me that we would not really be camping out in tents, but instead using an old motor home that belonged to a friend of his, which was located at the campground on a permanent basis, I was much relieved. Even without having to pack camping gear, there was little room for clothing. 

Logan insisted that I must wear jeans and a jacket, plus some sort of heavy shoes and, of course, a helmet, whenever we rode the motorcycle. Since it was by then early May and quite nice outside, I thought the heavy clothes would be a problem. However, I reckoned without the wind chill factor when traveling on a motorcycle. I would have been quite cold without them, even had we not been going north. 

I also feared that heavy boots would be difficult to find, considering my feet. As it is, I have to buy custom-made shoes in order to fit my unusual feet. Fortunately, I have found a place online that makes them to order, with thinner and more flexible soles and a stretchy fabric top. They do not provide a lot of protection, but I’ve gone barefoot so often that the bottom of my feet are quite tough, so that is not a problem.

For use on the motorcycle, I was able to borrow a pair of boots from Colossus that I could put on completely over my regular shoes, but I could not walk around in them, so I would just slip them off and leave them with the bike, along with our helmets.

A little over a week later, we started off on our little adventure together. Somewhat to my annoyance, he still refused to tell me where we were going until we got there.

“Vell, at least tell me how long it vill take,” I protested.

“We should be there in about six hours, depending on the traffic. Just sit back and enjoy the scenery,” was all he would tell me. “Leave the rest of it to me.”

So that was just what I did, stoically refusing to ask anything more about our destination as we sped along the highway going I knew not where. But I did note the signs along the way and the general direction in which we were heading, since I really don’t like not knowing where I am.

 

GERMAN TRANSLATIONS  
Yes, I am aware that, as in too many of the comics, I have used the misspelling of “Vas?” for the German “Was?” in this story. This is deliberate, since it can be too easily confused with the English word otherwise. In all other cases, when Kurt says something in German, there will be a “W” used in the German words.

Du hast recht. You’re right.

 

IN THE BEGINNING . . . Part 2

. . . GOD CREATED THE HEAVEN AND THE EARTH

 

Nine hours later, having been delayed in a traffic jam due to road construction on Route 95 and then by an accident further on, we finally approached our destination. By that time, I had had about enough motorcycle riding for one day and was feeling rather grumpy. I knew from the signs we had passed that we were in Massachusetts, on something quaintly called Cape Cod, and we appeared to be on Route 6 approaching a place called Provincetown.

As we crested the top of a hill, Logan pulled over to the side of the road so I could appreciate the view.

Appearing so suddenly and unexpectedly before us was the end of the Cape, as the land curved around and in upon itself, at first gently and then more sharply into a tightening spiral that ended in a long low spit of sand. Against the fading sunset, the lights of the town sparkled along the curve of the shoreline. The silhouette of a slender and strangely archaic-looking tower rose from what appeared to be the center of the town.

 

http://i1203.photobucket.com/albums/bb381/Karl-5/ViewfromRT6_zps77f596b8.jpg

 

For a good minute, we both just looked at the sight before us, quiet except for the idling of the motorcycle engine.

“Nice, huh?” Logan remarked at last.

“Ja. This is vhere ve are going?”

“Yep. Nowhere else to go from here. This is where the land ends and the ocean begins.”

“Sehr schön.”

“So, you up for looking around the town tonight, or would you rather just go to the campground and settle in? I know the first time on a motorcycle can be pretty exhausting, and that wasn’t exactly the most pleasant ride I’ve had either. Anyway, it’s up to you.”

“I think the campground vould be good. But I am hungry.”

“How about we go there first, I get everything up and running in the motor home, so we’ll have heat, hot water, electricity, and all that other good stuff, and then I ride into town and bring us back a pizza?” 

“That vould be great!”

 

By the time Logan returned with our supper, I had familiarized myself with our temporary home. It was basically a smaller and older version of what are now called RV’s, rather like a bus, with two seats up front for when it was on the road, plus a third comfortable, if very faded and worn, upholstered chair.

Across from that was a dinette table with two benches, then the small but adequate kitchenette, complete with stove, refrigerator, and sink.

Behind and to the left, there was a bedroom that was barely bigger than the double bed it contained. And let’s not even mention the bathroom. If it were any smaller, I could not have turned around in it without smashing my tail into something. But overall it was sufficient for our needs, and certainly far superior to an ordinary tent.

 

 

“Hope you like mushrooms and extra cheese,” Logan remarked, as he came in the door. “Got some beer also.”

“Ja, that is fine.”

He watched me as I devoured my first slice and gave a short laugh. “Looks to me as if I could have gotten you one that was garnished with roadkill and you’d still have said the same thing.”

“Vell, if you didn’t tell me vhat it vas, I vould probably have eaten it.” I glanced with mock suspicion at the rest of the pizza. “I do not see any squashed squirrels or flat turtles on it, so I must assume it is safe to continue eating, nicht wahr?”

“Just drink your beer, smartass,” he replied, shaking his head. “So how do you like our home away from home?”

“Vell, actually, it feels very familiar. Ve lived in things rather like this, vhen the circus vas traveling. Usually they vere somevhat larger, but this is fine for just the two of us.”

“For me, it’s luxurious. I’m used to sleepin’ out on the ground, or maybe in a tent if it’s real cold.”

After we had finished eating, Logan stripped off his clothes and headed into the bathroom to shower, while I lay down on the bed, intending only to rest my eyes before I too got cleaned up. Instead, I was so exhausted that I fell asleep immediately.

I woke up once during the night to a brief flurry of panic, wondering where I was. As soon as that abated, I noticed I was alone in the bed, stark naked and with the covers tucked neatly around me. Where was Logan?

I got up to go to the bathroom and discovered him curled up in the chair in the other room. He didn’t look very comfortable, but he was sound asleep. I considered waking him and inviting him into the bed, but decided against it. Where he slept was his decision. Besides, I was still very tired and with him beside me, I doubted either of us would do much sleeping. 

Since I did not usually sleep naked, I put on a pair of briefs and settled back down in the bed with a contented sigh.

 

I was still dead to the world when Logan charged into the bedroom and pulled the covers off me.

“Wake up, you lazy son-of-a-bitch,” he said gleefully. “Breakfast awaits you in our spacious dining room. If you lie around on that bed any longer, your bacon and egg biscuit will get cold.”

Protesting “I’m up, I’m up,” I struggled to my feet.

“Holy shit, buddy, what have you got on?” 

He was clearly referring to the underwear in which I had slept, which was black with red designs and made of a satiny sort of material.

“Vhat?” I asked, still half asleep. “You do not think the little red devils vith pitchforks are cute?”

“Uh – yeah. Cute. I guess.” He closed his eyes and shook his head hopelessly. “Your fashion sense leaves much to be desired.”

“And I suppose yours does not, considering the classy vhite undershirt and vornout jeans vhich seem to make up the entire extent of your vardrobe?”

“Hey, at least I don’t wear baggy striped pants the way you used to.”

He laughed as I gave him a foul look and squeezed past him through the door, heading for the table that held our breakfast.

 

Later on, dressed and ready to go for a ride, which Logan assured me would be very short, I joined him outside.

“OK, since this bike isn’t equipped with a microphone, I can’t talk to you while we’re riding, so here’s the lecture first. Provincetown basically stretches along the shore of the harbor.” He handed me a small map and pointed to it as he spoke. “There are only two main streets, Commercial Street and Bradford Street, that run the length of the town, which is only about 3 miles. The other streets mostly run between those two streets.”

 

http://www.iamprovincetown.com/ptown_map.htm

 

“Ja, I see. It looks like a ladder.”

“Exactly. Behind the town is an area called the Province Lands. It’s all sand dunes and beaches and scrub pines. Part of the Cape Cod National Seashore. You’ll find out more about it when we get to the Visitor Center.”

He got onto the bike and I climbed up behind him. As we donned our helmets and drove out of the campground, I saw the sign I hadn’t noticed last night. Apparently, we were staying in a place called Coastal Acres. 

Once out on Bradford Street, there wasn’t much to see except a lot of quaint old houses until we got clear of the town itself. I expected Logan to stop at Herring Cove Beach, but he didn’t. As promised, the Province Lands seemed to be all dunes, mostly grown over by small pine trees. The road wound up, over, and around these dunes for about 2 miles before we reached our destination. 

The Visitors Center sat atop one of the higher dunes, which gave us a view of the surrounding area, including the nearby beach and ocean, from the outdoor decks. It was a type of landscape I had never seen before. I read all the information boards enthusiastically.

I discovered this was all just a small part of the Cape Cod National Seashore. In addition to what I had noticed on our bike ride already, there were many small ponds and bogs, plus areas that were primarily composed of huge sand dunes. There were walking trails, bike trails, and even horse trails throughout the dunes.

Then I found out some information that I did not like at all.

“Logan, look! This sign says there are lots of ticks out here!” I shuddered. “Just the thought of such creatures crawling across my skin gives me the creeps.”

“Yeah,” he agreed genially, “and they’d be hard to find, since you’re a rather dark color. But don’t worry. That’s mostly if you go off the cleared trails and into the brush.” He grinned at me, with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I’ll be glad to check you for ticks when we get back to the campground though. I’ll search every square inch of your body very thoroughly, I promise.”

I laughed. “I vill consider it.”

”OK, next stop is really exciting: food shopping at the local A & P. But on the way we’ll ride through the town center, so you can see what makes this place so special.”

“You are not going to tell me about it first?”

“Nope. You’ll see for yourself.”

Through a small stretch of woods, a mile or so down Route 6, then down a cross street to Commercial Street, which turned out to be one way from east to west, barely wide enough for one lane of traffic to get past all the parked cars. Of course, we had no trouble, being on a motorcycle, except that the closer we got to the middle of the town, the slower the traffic moved, which makes it difficult to keep a bike upright. Several times we had to stop entirely, but that gave me more chance to look around.

The busiest part of town was about a mile long, where a multitude of shops, restaurants, art galleries, historical buildings and the occasional bar or restaurant jostled together to compete for the tourists who clogged the narrow street, wandering around as if bemused by this maze of opportunities to spend their money.

But it was the nature of this crowd that struck me. Plenty of ordinary folks, of course, but mixed in with them, unnoticed and unremarked, were mutants of all shapes and sizes, some as obvious as I am and others whose appearance was more subtle, but definitely there. Sometimes it was just a logo on a sweatshirt that proudly proclaimed their mutant status.

As we made our way slowly along the street, I marveled at the obvious lack of attention being paid to such a wide diversity of people.

I had just about gotten used to this when I realized there was another sort of diversity within this mass of humanity. There were women with crewcuts and overalls walking hand in hand with each other or perhaps with a very feminine partner by their sides. Men in leather pants and vests strode purposefully along, while other gaudily dressed men stood looking in the windows of some of the better shops. Less obviously, pairs of ordinary-looking men and women also strolled nonchalantly by together with their same-sex partners.

By the time I saw a flamboyantly rainbow-striped T shirt hanging in a store window that proclaimed, “Gay, mutant, and proud. Kiss me!” I was beyond surprise.

We happened to be at a dead stop, Logan holding us balanced with both feet on the ground. He turned around to me and said, “See what I meant?” just loudly enough for me to hear him over the sound of the idling engine.

I nodded enthusiastically, feeling my eyes glow with excitement.

Then we were past the busy center of town and out into the West End, where guesthouses and cottages crowded the roadside.

I won’t bore you with an account of our food shopping, but I will say it was just as astonishing to see all different kinds of folks doing something as ordinary as buying food, with no notice taken of who or what they were. No one gave me a second glance, but I caught more than one man eyeing Logan hungrily. I was not jealous. Rather, I was proud to be with a man as evidently desirable as he was.

 

As we unloaded the groceries, Logan gave me a quick rundown on Provincetown’s past and why it has learned to live with such a diverse population. It has long been a place for artists and writers to go, so it attracts people who don’t really fit in anywhere else. For many years, hippies and other freethinkers came here. Then gay folks discovered it, and in time became a large segment of the population. It was only a matter of more time before mutants also arrived, whether gay or straight. 

“It vas so strange to have no one staring at me,” I remarked. “Or vorse, running avay screaming. I felt – vell – normal, if there is such a thing as normal.”

“I guess that’s pretty unusual for you, huh?” I nodded. “Most of the time,” he went on, “I can blend in fairly well.”

“Ja, I vould expect so, as long as you do not extend your claws.”

As I packed the food into our refrigerator, I seemed to hear a familiar voice echoing in my head. I froze with one hand still holding a six pack of beer, lost in memory.

Logan’s voice called me back to reality. “Kurt? Ya OK? You’re gonna freeze the few fingers you got if you don’t put that down soon.”

“Oh. Ja.” I stuffed the beer into the fridge . “Do you remember vhen ve vere camped vith Magneto and Mystique near Alkali Lake?”

“How could I forget?” He frowned slightly, as if something about that time bothered him.

“Vhen I could find Mystique by herself, I asked her if it vas true that she could take on any appearance that she vished. Vhen she assured me she could, I asked vhy she did not just stay disguised as a regular person. Her answer vas short and simple: ‘Because ve shouldn’t have to.’ Such a thought had never crossed my mind, since I have alvays seen myself as so very different from the rest of the vorld that I often vish I too could be normal.”

Logan nodded.

“Here in this town, I felt vhat it is like not to have to hide vhat I am beneath heavy clothing and make up, just in order to be accepted as human. It seems unreal, as if this is a dream.” I am sure I sounded as bemused as I had been during that conversation with Mystique.

“Ain’t no dream, buddy. It’s the way reality should be, but rarely is. That’s one of the reasons why I figured you’d like it here.”

“But you do not have that problem, so vhy is it that you know about this place and have clearly been here in the past? The obvious answer vould be because you are part of the other minority that lives here, but you have never said you vere gay or acted as if you vere.”

“I’m not.” The words were no sooner out of his mouth than he shook his head slightly and a puzzled look crossed his face. “Or at least I never quite thought of myself that way. But a lot of my memory is missing, so I can’t be sure.” He shrugged off the confusion. “As for P’town, I guess I just like how people are accepted for what they are.”

“Are you avare of the vay some of the men vere looking at you?”

“Oh, sure. Happens all the time.” Then he looked me directly in the eyes and went on, “Are you aware of how some of the men were looking at you?”

“Really? I did not notice.”

“Some guys have a thing for mutants.”

I froze. “I -- never thought – I – should have known.” Memories flooded through me. Men touching my child’s body. Hands holding me down as they used me for their desires. Herr Grüber’s voice -- Nein! I will not think of such things! Not now, not ever!

“Kurt? Hey, buddy, what is it? What’s wrong?” He was holding my shoulders, shaking me gently.

“Nothing. I’m fine. Just a ghost from my past.”

“I know all about those kinds of ghosts. Want to tell me about it?”

“No. Not now. It is not important.” I flashed him a toothy smile.

“I understand. There are too many things in my own head that I don’t want to show to anyone else. But if you ever wanna tell me, I’ll listen without judging you.”

I nodded, then promptly changed the subject. “Shall ve have some lunch, now that ve have all this food?”

“Yeah. Afterwards we’re going to climb the Pilgrim Monument.”

“Vhat’s that?”

“Remember the stone tower we saw in the center of town?”

“Ja.”

“The Pilgrims built it in order to find their way here.”

It only took me a second’s consideration to process that. “Uh – I do not think –”

He laughed. “I’m kiddin’ ya, Kurt.”

“Oh.” 

 

After lunch, we walked into town along Bradford Street. It was perhaps a mile, if that. 

“This street is not as crowded vith people as the other one vas,” I remarked.

“Yep. Commercial Street is the main drag, so to speak. That’s where most of the shops and tourist stuff are located.”

“Are there alvays so many people?”

“In the middle of summer, yeah, if not more. Before Memorial Day like this, mostly only on weekends. Today is Saturday, you know.”

“Ja. And tomorrow is Sunday. Is there a Catholic church around here?”

“Sure. The town has a fairly large Catholic population, mostly stemming from the Portuguese fisherman who were some of the earlier settlers, so there’s a good-sized church in town. As a matter of fact, it’s on our way to the Monument. We can go right by it, if you want.”

“Please. I can find out the times for Mass.” Then I thought of something. “They vould not throw me out, vould they?”

“In Provincetown? You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Sehr gut. I vill go tomorrow and see vhat happens.”

“Here, we go left on Prince Street and up over the hill. The church is called St. Peter’s.”

“That makes sense. Peter vas, after all, a fisherman.”

http://www.stpeters-ptown.org/

 

“There ya go, buddy,” Logan said, waving his hand at the gray-shingled building just over the hill. “This is the new building. The last one burned down some years ago. The original church dated back to the late 1800’s, if I remember correctly.”

“It is simple, but very nice.” I looked around until I found the signboard. “Mass vill be at 8:30 AM. Perfect!”

“OK, if that’s all settled, let’s head over to the Monument. It’s only a block or so away.”

“It is not as if I could not see it sticking up right over there, Logan.”

He shrugged.

 

As we climbed the steep street leading to the entrance of the Monument, I looked up at the tall granite structure that now towered over us.

“It looks as if it should be in Europe, not here.”

“You’re not far from the truth. The design was based on a tower somewhere in Italy. The Monument was built in the early 1900’s to commemorate the fact that the Pilgrims landed here first, but then went on to Plymouth, where they settled down.”

“You sound like a guidebook.”

“Sorry. Me, I think they built it for the publicity and to bring tourists here. Judging by the number of cars in the parking lot, they were successful.”

I was still staring up in the air. Tall buildings always catch my interest. I want to perch on top of them.

“C’mon, buddy. Time to climb.”

“Ve must climb up on it?” I said, looking dubiously at the rocky stone surface and the steep sides of the tower. “Do all the tourists do that? It seems dangerous. Of course, ve could probably do it easily enough, but most other people –”

He cut me off, trying to stifle his amusement. “Relax. There are steps inside. You’ll see.”

And see I did. The Pilgrim Monument is 77 meters in height, which is about as high as a twenty-story building. A slanted ramp with a few steps at each corner runs along the inside of each wall, so you alternate between climbing and walking.

 

http://www.pilgrim-monument.org/

 

My first suggestion to Logan when we entered the base of the tower and I saw how things were laid out was, I admit, rather naïve. Since the ramps and steps had been built against the inside walls, there was a clear space all the way up the middle. As a result, I could see where we would end up.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/chloeprince/5114585572/

 

“Aha! Ve do not have to climb all the vay up there. I could teleport us to the top.”

“That would be cheating,” he chided me. “Sometimes you should do it the hard way, so you know what things are like for most other people.”

Chastened, I began trudging up the stairs.

There are granite blocks set into the walls here and there with the names of many New England towns. Some of them taxed my knowledge of English pronunciation, but I tried gamely to read each one aloud. Quaboac. Quansigamond. Petapawag. Ponkapoac.

“Give it up, buddy. Those are Native American words,” Logan finally told me.

 

When we finally reached the top of the stairs and stepped out onto the balcony that ran all the way around the tower, we were hit by a stiff and none too warm breeze. I pulled my sweatshirt tighter around me, wishing for a heavier jacket.

“Ya cold, buddy?”

I nodded. 

“Here. You can wear my jacket. I’m Canadian, so cold doesn’t bother me much.”

“Danke.”

The view from the top was simply beautiful. From each side, the panorama was different. We looked down at the town, the harbor, the cemetery. I was especially interested in the harbor.

“Logan, look! Boats!”

“Yeah. That’s not unusual for a place surrounded by water, ya know.”

His sarcasm did nothing to dampen my enthusiasm. “There’s a schooner!”

He dutifully followed my pointing finger. “That’s the Bay Lady. Pretty, ain’t she?”

I gave a huge sigh. “I vish I could sail on something like that.”

“Ya can. It takes people out sailing every day during the tourist season.” He glanced at me, clearly amused by my excitement. “Let me take a wild guess: you wanna go?”

“Jawohl!”

“Kinda figured that out by now.” He glanced up at the sky, which was rapidly filling up with dark clouds, driven by the wind. “We can stop by their booth on the Wharf and make reservations for tomorrow. That is, if you don’t mind going on a Sunday?”

“There is no problem vith that. As long as we go later in the morning, or afternoon, so I can get to Mass.”

“Good, because it looks like there’s a good chance it’ll rain pretty soon, so they’re unlikely to have another trip planned for today. This time of year, they only sail on the weekends, and then only if they get enough passengers.” He looked up at the sky again. “In fact, I think we oughta head down and get back to the campground, or we’re going to get very damp very soon.”

“But I still vant to see the museum and the gift shop before ve leave.”

“Well then, let’s get going.”

So I grabbed him and took us down to the ground. “There. Now ve have some time.”

“Geez, I hate it when you do that.”

“Come on,” I said. “You vere the one who did not vant to get vet, remember?”

“Somehow, I have the feeling we’re going to get wet anyway,” he said resignedly, as I dragged him over to the museum, insisting that we had to visit every exhibit that had anything to do with ships. 

“Listen, I’ve seen all this stuff. How about if I walk down to the Wharf and make our reservations for tomorrow, while you’re lookin’ around? I’ll meet you back here. Okay?”

“Ja, okay.”

 

By the time he returned, I had managed to get through most of the museum, but was still standing in front of the exhibit that showed the interior of a typical captain’s cabin, peering through the glass and picking out all the details with delight. To see something for real that I had only seen before on the printed page always thrills me.

Poor Logan had to practically drag me to the exit, but by then it was too late.

“Look, it is already raining,” I pointed out as we approached the door.

“Yeah, I noticed that. Come on.”

“Nein! I vish to buy a souvenir in the gift shop. One of those purple glass hanging things, vith an image of the Monument.”

“What are you gonna do with that?”

“Hang it in my vindow. Vhat else vould I do vith such a thing? It makes me happy to see sunlight streaming through colored glass. Since ve vill get vet anyvay, there is no reason to rush anymore, is there?”

He was forced to yield to my impeccable logic. 

 

By the time we walked back to the campground, we were both soaked to the skin and cold.

I was already peeling off my wet clothes when Logan pulled a plastic bag out from under his shirt. He dumped a bunch of slightly soggy papers in a damp pile onto the table. “Here ya go, pal. I picked up these brochures at the Chamber of Commerce while I was in town. Figured you might want to look through them. See if there’s anything that catches your interest.”

“I vill certainly do that, as soon as I get dried off.”

“By the way, we’ve got tickets for the one o’clock trip on the Bay Lady tomorrow, weather permitting. Rain’s supposed to stop by then.”

“Vonderful! I can hardly vait.”

“Why are you so interested in sailboats anyway?”

“Oh, I vas very interested in pirates as a teen-ager, so I read a lot about them, both fact and fiction. I found out they vere not as romantic as I had thought, but neither vere they all as vicious as they are often portrayed.”

“But the Bay Lady isn’t a pirate ship.” 

“It is a sailing vessel, nicht wahr? That is vhat I vish to experience.”

“In that case, you’ll get your chance tomorrow.”

I could not stop myself. I went over and hugged him, planting a kiss on his cheek. He looked kind of embarrassed, but he didn’t let go real quickly either.

 

Later that evening, the rain was still pouring down, making a regular racket on the metal roof. It was kind of nice, since it reminded me of my teen-age years in the circus, when most of us lived in trailers not much bigger than this one and the sound of rain was a constant companion on lonely nights.

However, each time my treacherous memory threatened to stray back into my early childhood, I firmly redirected my attention to the almost-dry brochures scattered around me on the bed. 

Logan peeked into the room and winced at the sight of the little red devils prancing around my hips with their pitchforks. “Geez, Kurt, can’t you just take those damned briefs off and sleep naked?”

“Vell, if that is vhat you vant –” I obliged him, then went back to my brochures. “Look! Here’s a pirate museum! Can ve go there? And a strange store called Marine Specialties! And a Glass Museum in Sandwich? How could they put a museum made of glass in a sandwich? And here is – ” 

“Whoa! Enough already! We don’t haveta do all that right now, do we? There are other things about you that I’m more interested in.” His eyes traveled slowly down my now-naked body. 

“Uh – no. Ve do not.”

“Good! I’m gonna go shower now, but it’ll only take me a minute. I’d sure like ta see ya still lyin’ there waitin’ for me when I’m done. Oh, and by the way, Sandwich is the name of a town at the other end of the Cape and the museum is full of glass stuff.”

He didn’t even give me a chance to reply before he ducked into our miniscule bathroom.

I went back to scrutinizing my pamphlets, trying to decide what I most wanted to do, since we clearly would not have time to do it all. So engrossed was I in what I was doing, I didn’t notice when Logan came into the room until he laid down behind me and his adamantium-reinforced weight tilted the mattress so steeply that I rolled back against him. He draped an arm around my waist.

“Ya wanna fuck, baby?” he growled, clearly half serious and half joking.

Without turning around, I exclaimed in mock indignation, “Oh my goodness! Get thee behind me, Satan!”

He laughed evilly. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m already behind you. And if there’s anyone around here who looks as if he might be Satan, it ain’t me.”

“Geh zum Hölle, Logan!“ I replied, laughing. 

“If I go to hell, as you suggest, how could I do this?” He ran his hand over my chest teasingly, brushing one of my nipples as he did so.

I squirmed around so that we were face to face. As the evening slowly darkened into night and the rain kept on pounding down on the roof, we explored each other’s bodies with our fingers, touching here, caressing there, eventually searching out the sensitive places with lips and tongues, squirming against each other and managing to get fairly well tangled in arms, legs, and tail before we each ended up with a slippery grasp on a hard cock, working each other to an exquisite climax, then starting all over and doing it again before we had finally had enough.

Logan started to pull away. “Guess it’s about time we got some sleep, huh? I’ll go –”

I put a hand on his shoulder. “No. Stay.” 

“Ya sure?” 

“Ja.”

We drifted off to sleep, back to back.

 

Sometime later that night, I woke up to find Logan sound asleep and holding me from behind, one arm draped heavily over my waist. 

I wasn’t sure I could get back to sleep that way, but then I decided it felt so good that I didn’t care if I laid there wide awake for the rest of the night. 

Some part of me has always enjoyed being held, but another part found it somewhat distressing. I haven’t had much of that sort of contact as an adult, and I missed it when I was a child. Back then, it was always connected to sex, not just affection. That nice man who sometimes took me home with him was the only one who really let me sleep in his arms. Not that he didn’t want sex also, but there was more to it than just that.

Mein Gott, what am I thinking? I don’t want to remember this, especially not now and not here, with Logan. The past is over. Do I enjoy this now is the real question I should be asking myself. And the answer to that is easy; I love it. Only this time, I also love the idea that sex is part of it, even if I do feel somewhat guilty about that part. I want him with a passion I have never felt before, and I don’t even know exactly why, but neither can I help thinking that this is just the first step on a path that will lead me inevitably into temptation and sin. Maybe we are crossing the line between masturbation and true forbidden sex. Or, if we have not, perhaps we soon will be.

Oh, enough of this!! For once, just let me enjoy feeling the warmth and strength of someone pressed against me simply for sleep and, perhaps, affection, not just to make use of my body. Such a thing has been so rare in my life. Let me cherish it while I can, for I know it may not last.

 

 

I was almost asleep when Logan started thrashing around violently, cursing out loud at some nightmare enemy. 

“Logan? What’s wrong—”

He sat up abruptly. I heard the sound his claws make as they slice through the skin between his knuckles. Before I took the time to even think, I had ported myself to the far end of the room. Granted, that was not very far in such a small room, but it did get me out of range of the blades.

He stared around, searching for the enemy. Then he sank back down, saying disgustedly, “Shit! I could have killed you!”

“Not to vorry. I can move very fast vhen I have to. You vere not even close.” For a moment, we just stared at each other. “Does this happen very often?”

“Too often for my liking.” He gave me a rather sheepish grin. “Guess I’m not a very good bedmate, am I? Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. I’ll go back to the chair.”

Before he could get up, I leaped back into bed.

“No,” I said firmly, as I pulled him down beside me and snuggled against him, head on his shoulder. “I understand about nightmares. You are not – the only one who has them, mein Freund.”

He threw one arm over his eyes. “They’ve been getting worse ever since we tangled with William Stryker.” 

“He also haunts my dreams. I couldn’t remember much of vhat he did to me at first, but vhen Jean touched my mind at Alkali Lake, a torrent of images flooded into my awareness. Since then, I remember all too much of my captivity.”

He wiped his hand over his face, as if to wash away the dream. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Nein, I do not.”

“I’m not sure I want to talk about mine either, so don’t feel bad.”

After that uneasy resolution, we just lay there for a while in silence, until we fell asleep with my head still resting on his shoulder, and nightmares be damned.

 

Sunday dawned foggy and damp, but even as I walked into town to go to Mass, a warm wind began to blow, gently but insistently clearing away the fog. As always when I go to a new church, I was somewhat nervous about how I would be received. I deliberately arrived just a minute or so late, in order to be as unobtrusive as possible. As I came through the outside door, a man greeted me. Although he seemed somewhat surprised, he did manage a smile. That was a good sign. I went on into the church and sat down in the last pew.

The first thing that struck me was the beautiful stained glass window behind the altar. It showed Jesus walking on the waves, his hand reaching out towards a sinking Peter. It seemed a most appropriate choice of scenes, considering that we were at the end of Cape Cod, surrounded by water.

http://www.stpeters-ptown.org/photos/view/id/44

 

There were several other nautically themed windows, but that first one was far and away the most impressive. Then the Mass began, and I stopped thinking about the windows. I’ll spare you the details of what happens during Mass, since I don’t think you’re Catholic. (If I’m wrong and you are, you already know.) 

As I listened to the familiar liturgy, there were times when I felt a twinge of guilt about what Logan and I were doing. In fact, I didn’t even take Communion, since I had not been to confession recently and wasn’t at all sure I was worthy enough in God’s eyes to accept His Body and Blood. 

Other than that, there were a few curious stares from the other congregants, mixed with tentative smiles if someone caught my eye, and only a few deliberately avoided gazes. Not bad, considering the way I have often been greeted in various other churches. As we dispersed after the service, there were even one or two young folks who wished me a good morning. I tried hard not to smile too enthusiastically, since I didn’t want to scare them off with the sight of my teeth.

 

Logan was supposed to meet me on the Town Wharf shortly after noon, so I got a quick bite to eat and headed in that direction. It was easy enough to find the ticket booth for the Bay Lady, but he hadn’t gotten there yet, so I continued out to the end of the wharf to see the Pirate Museum that I had read about in one of my brochures. I spent a few minutes browsing in their gift shop, determined to come back later and explore the museum itself.

As I returned to the ticket booth, I noticed that the wind had picked up even more and was now blowing fairly steadily from the southwest. Out in the harbor, I could see the occasional whitecap, as the waves began to build. Good! It’s much more exciting to be on a sailboat in a strong wind, especially if the boat is as large as the Bay Lady. 

I could see two young crewmembers moving around on the deck, while an older man that I presumed to be the captain sat in a chair behind the ship’s wheel.

http://www.sailcapecod.com/

Meanwhile, Logan stood at the ticket booth, talking to the lady who sold tickets. As I came up beside him, the woman in the booth didn’t even give me a second look. A few other people stood around, as if they were waiting also.

Logan handed me one of the tickets. “Here ya go, Kurt. You owe me $25.”

As I reimbursed him, he glanced at his watch and remarked to the ticket seller, “It’s 12:45. Okay if we go onboard?”

“Be my guest,” she replied.

I could not restrain my excitement any longer. I teleported from the wharf over to the top section of the mainmast, which was the highest one and, in a schooner, the closest to the stern, clinging to it with hands and legs and glancing eagerly around at the view.

When I tired of that, I ported over to the foremast, then slid down the forestay, ending up in the bow of the schooner.

That was when I realized no one else had boarded the boat except Logan, since they were all too busy staring at me. Uh-oh, this couldn’t be good. 

The captain waved one of his crew over to him, where they exchanged a few words. The mate nodded and headed purposefully in my direction.

I ducked my head as he approached, expecting him to order me to leave. “I am sorry. I did not know I –”

The young man laughed shortly. “Don’t worry. It’s OK right now, but I have to warn you that once we leave the dock, we have a rule that says all passengers must remain on the deck at all times.”

“But I was perfectly safe up there,” I couldn’t help objecting.

“I’m sure you were, but when we’re under way, it’s just too distracting for the captain and the crew. That could lead to accidents.”

“Entschuldigung. I mean, pardon me. I did not think of that. I vill be sure to remain on the deck from now on.”

“Good enough. How about just sitting down in the cockpit for now, so you don’t scare away any of our passengers by flitting around all over the place?”

He said it so good-naturedly that I could not possibly take offense, so I followed him back to the rows of seats that filled the center of the boat and sat down next to Logan.

http://www.sailcapecod.com/album.html

“Geez, buddy, I can’t take you anywhere, can I?” he said, poking a finger into my chest and grinning widely. 

“Hmph! How far do you think you could get if you strolled around the boat with your claws extended, in the midst of all these lines?” I retorted, waving a hand at the ropes that ran up and down and all over the place.

“Yeah, but I have the sense not to do that. Speaking of sense --” He squirmed out of the knapsack he had on his back, then pulled out my sweat pants and jacket. “I thought you might need something other than just a dress shirt and trousers. If the wind keeps blowin’ like this, it’s gonna get wet. The wind may be warm, but the water is still very cold this time of year.”

I put the sweat suit on over my clothes, while Logan dug out two smallish plastic packages from his knapsack.

“I bought these on my way through town. Cheap plastic ponchos. Not exactly oilskins, but better than nothing if it gets rough.”

By then, it was sailing time. The captain gave us a short welcome and information about the weather forecast, then told us where the life jackets were stored and showed us how to put them on properly, in the event of an emergency. Then he started up the diesel engine, sounded the signal on his horn that indicated we were backing out of our slip, and we were on our way.

Once clear of the wharf and the rock breakwater that protected the floating docks, the crew hoisted the sails and the engine was turned off. We started out on a starboard tack. With the wind filling the sails, the schooner heeled over sharply to the opposite side.

I fear I may perhaps have bored Logan by enthusiastically telling him the names of all the sails and lines, what the crew was doing, what the captain’s orders meant in plain English, and so on. But all he did was listen patiently and nod his understanding now and then.

As the crew finished coiling down the lines, the captain announced, “Folks, you’re welcome to get up and walk around if you wish. It’s going to be pretty rough once we round Long Point, so be careful to hold on while you do so. For anyone who might be chilly, we have plenty of blankets belowdecks, and the crew will be happy to bring them up if you need them. Hope you enjoy the cruise!”

I was the first one to take him up on the offer of moving around, getting immediately to my feet.

The schooner pitched up and down rather dramatically as the waves lifted and dropped the bow. There was also some side to side rolling motion, but that was dampened by the pressure of the wind on the sails. A couple of our passengers appeared rather uneasy, so I hoped that no one would become seasick later on.

Of course, the unaccustomed motion was no problem to me, since I could balance easily.

“Come on, Logan. Let us go sit up in the bow.”

“Ya sure about that, buddy? We’ll get wet.”

“Then ve vill vear those plastic things, ja?”

“Okay. Here. Put it on.” 

“It vill make me look like a landlubber,” I objected.

“You’d rather look like a drowned blue rat?”

“Vell, vhen you put it that vay –”

“If you take the belt from your trousers,” he suggested, “and fasten it around your waist over the poncho, it won’t flap so much in the wind.”

Now suitably dressed for heavy weather, we made our way up to the bow of the boat, holding onto the wire shrouds and staring forward at the oncoming waves.

Logan turned out to be right about the wet and cold. Once we passed Long Point, the waves became much higher, driven by the strong southwest wind. We started out sailing as close as we could into the wind, which meant the waves slapped against the windward side of the bow, often causing spray to fall onto the deck as far back as the wheel. And that water was indeed quite cold.

Very soon, the crew began bringing blankets up to the passengers, most of whom had remained in their seats and appeared to be enjoying themselves immensely, despite the soaking spray. Logan declined a blanket, but I took one willingly, fancying that I looked more like a pirate with the blanket thrown across my shoulders like a cloak. Now all I needed was a cutlass in my hand.

Logan looked at me and shook his head. “I know you said you were interested in pirates when you were a kid, but how do you know all this stuff about sailing?”

“Vhile I vas reading, I learned a lot about the old time sailing ships themselves. I did not read only about pirates, but also about the ships they plundered. There are many excellent historical novels about the British Navy in those days also, vhich I enjoyed immensely. ‘The days of vooden ships and iron men’, you know.”

“Guess I’d have fit in pretty well with those ‘iron men’ of yours, considering all the adamantium I carry around.”

“As long as it does not rust, you vould have been fine.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but just then we were hit by a large wave and both of us got a faceful of flying water. By the end of the cruise, I would be glad he had thought about the ponchos, even though we got pretty wet anyway.

“Just do not fall overboard,” I said, after wiping the salt water out of my eyes. “You vould probably sink.” Then a thought struck me. “Could you drown?”

He considered that for a moment. “I think so. Never tried it though. Or, if I did, I don’t remember. Seems to me that most of the sailors on those old time ships of yours couldn’t swim. If they fell overboard, they usually drowned.”

I frowned. “How do you know that?”

“I’m – not sure. Feels like one of them told me that once, but that doesn’t make sense.” He shook his head, as if to bring his thoughts into clearer focus. “All this nautical stuff is starting to ring a bell. Maybe there was a time I’ve been on those ships, earlier in my life.”

“Do you know vhen you vere born?”

“No. There’s so much I just can’t remember, and I don’t even know why I don’t remember. It drives me crazy sometimes.”

“Vell, if you were alive before the American Civil Var, you may have been around before the great sailing ships vere made obsolete by steamships.”

He just shook his head, with a puzzled and frustrated expression on his face.

We were almost to the shoreline at the eastern end of the Bay when I heard the Captain order the crew, “Stand by to come about!”

“Ve are going to turn around now,” I dutifully informed Logan. “Vatch. They vill first turn directly into the direction of the vind, and then go on the other tack, vith the vind on the other side of the boat. All the sails vill flap around. It is quite dramatic. Ve should get down low now, or ve vill be in the vay of the sails.”

It was quite dramatic, with the captain shouting orders and the sails swinging over to the other side of the boat, the jib being hauled across, and all the lines being adjusted to our new heading, which was basically back the way we had come.

The motion of the boat changed on this new tack. The crew trimmed the sails so that the wind was no longer coming mostly from ahead of us, but more from the side. It was a slower and less abrupt motion now, but it was not as exciting as it had been on the way out.

Logan glanced around. “Kurt, I’m gonna go back to the seats in the cockpit and take it easy for a while. You gonna stay here?”

“Ja. Vill you take this blanket back vith you? There is not much spray now and it feels varmer going in this direction, so I vill not need it. Besides, the blanket is all vet, so it is not much help.”

“Well, okay, if you’re sure.”

When Logan had gone, I stood staring forward over the water, the silhouette of the town now visible up ahead of us and to the right, but mostly blocked by the large expanse of the jib. 

Without thinking, I walked out on the bowsprit to the end, and leaned around the taut jib so that I could see the town better. 

No sooner had I done that than I realized I was technically no longer on the deck, where I had promised to stay. I turned and glanced back along the length of the schooner at the captain, giving him a rather sheepish wave and expecting an angry gesture ordering me to come back. Instead, he only smiled and raised one hand in the thumbs up gesture that means okay. So I stayed perched out there until we were almost back to the breakwater and I had to go back to my seat so the crew could lower the sails.

After we had returned to the dock and were getting off the boat, the captain stood alongside, bidding his passengers farewell. 

As I disembarked, I said apologetically, “I am sorry if I vas not supposed to be on the bowsprit.” 

He smiled genially. “That’s all right. I could tell you knew what you were doing and wouldn’t fall off.”

He shook hands with us both and wished us, “Fair winds and following seas.”

“Danke, Herr Kapitän,” I replied, without thinking. He seemed unaccountably pleased to be addressed in German. Maybe he liked to watch the U-boat movies about the Second World War.

No sooner had we stepped off the gangway than I grabbed Logan’s arm and pointed toward the end of the wharf. 

“Now ve must also visit the Pirate Museum, vhile ve are here. Come!”

Logan sighed resignedly. “I shoulda guessed you wanted to see that, huh?”

“Aber natürlich! Are you not interested in pirates?”

“It’s not that. I’ve seen just about every tourist attraction in town, including the Whydah Museum.”

By now, I had dragged him almost to the entrance, which was really not too far from where the Bay Lady docked. “You do not vish to see it again?”

“No, not really. But you go ahead. I’ll wait out here. Take your time, okay?”

My enthusiasm was not dampened by his own lack thereof. I paid my admission and went inside, as he wandered over to the far side of the wharf.

 

http://whydah.com/whydah-museum/

The museum itself is not very large, but it was certainly packed full of information and exhibits about Sam Bellamy, the pirate, and his ship, the Whydah, which had been wrecked just off Cape Cod in the early 1700’s. Everything on board went down with the ship, including most of its crew.

The founder of the Museum, Barry Clifford, had discovered the wreck in 1998 and since then has salvaged an incredible number of real pirate artifacts. His discovery contributed a lot to the knowledge about real pirates, who were not quite like the conventional stereotypes seen in movies and books.

I practically drooled over the treasure that was on display, not to mention the cannons and firearms. Of course, I had to read all of the descriptions and information that I could. 

http://www.nationalgeographic.com/whydah/story.html

 

If only I had been able to see all this as a teen-ager! How it would have thrilled me back then! As it was, I had to remind myself sternly several times that poor Logan was outside waiting for me, probably bored to tears.

But before I left, I bought a book about the discovery of the Whydah written by Barry Clifford himself, so that I could find out more details later on at my leisure.

Imagine my surprise when I found Logan outside leaning against one of the pilings near the part of the wharf where a couple of commercial fishing boats were tied up. He was standing in the midst of a group of older men who certainly looked as if they belonged down on those boats, passing around a bottle and talking about what sounded like the good old days, when the Provincetown fishing fleet still brought in a huge catch and more than a few families made a good living from the sea. 

I didn’t want to interrupt, so I just walked slowly towards them, until Logan noticed me and excused himself from the others, with much hand-shaking and comments about it being nice talking to him.

When he came over to me, we attracted a few somewhat surprised sideways glances from the nostalgic fishermen, but that was all.

“I did not know you had so many friends here, Logan,” I remarked as we started back down the wharf.

“I don’t. But it’s not hard to start a conversation with the local folks, if you ask them about the fishing fleet. Commercial fishing around here has been steadily going down the tubes in the last couple of decades, as the fish population keeps dwindling. I suppose it had to happen someday. I remember when there were over a dozen boats regularly docked here.” He waved a hand casually around at all the tourist boats now tied up to the floating docks. “Now there are only a few still in business. It just ain’t what it used to be, Kurt. Kind of a sad thing to see.”

Chastened, I could only agree.

 

By the time we walked back through town and out to the campground, it was getting on toward dark and we were both more than ready to get out of our damp clothes and have some dinner.

I was still drying myself off as I looked around the kitchen for something that would be quick and easy to put together.

“Logan, ve have a couple of cans of beef stew. How does that sound to you?”

“I guess that would be all right.”

“You do not sound very enthusiastic. Do you not like stew?”

“Not my favorite, but, like you said, it’s quick and easy.”

“One day vhile ve are here, I vill make a real dinner for us.”

“In this half-assed kitchen?”

I glanced around the kitchen, then investigated the available pots and pans in the cabinets above and below the sink.

“Ja, ve have everything that is needed. I am not, after all, a French chef. But to do that, I must make a trip to the grocery store again, so tonight it vill be this stew.”

As I heated up our dinner, I could not help talking about the good time I had had. 

“I can still hardly believe I vas really sailing, instead of just reading about it!” I declared while buttering some rolls for us to have with the stew.

Logan was already sitting at the table, leaning on one elbow and drinking a bottle of bear. “You really never been on a boat before?”

“Not a sailboat, no. Of course, real pirate ships vere larger than the Bay Lady, but not by all that much.”

“What is it with you and pirates, anyway? What’s the attraction?”

“I guess it vas the idea of such freedom. To roam the seas vith your comrades, vith no rules you had not made for yourself.”

“But they were thieves and murderers.”

“Vell, yes, to an extent. But it looked so exciting in the movies. And real pirates vere not as bad as they have often been portrayed. Many of them vere outcasts from their society, even slaves that vere on ships the pirates had captured. The people no one else vanted. I suppose that appealed to me, back vhen I vas a young man.”

“Funny. There was once a time when kids thought it would be cool to run away and join the circus. You had that already, so maybe you just wanted someplace else to run off to, huh?”

“Hmm. That is possible, I suppose. Although I vas very happy vith the circus in those days, I vas still a freak and an outcast to the rest of the vorld, and I could not escape that no matter vhat I did.”

“I’m afraid you still are, to many people.”

“But not so much here, in this place,” I pointed out, getting the stew from the microwave and dishing it out onto our plates.  
“The captain shook hands vith me and vished me vell vithout the slightest hesitation, as if I vere just like anyone else. And few people do anything more than stare at me for a moment, if even that. I vish I never had to leave here.”

Logan handed me a beer as I sat down to eat. “Sometimes I do too. But this is kind of like your circus, as in not exactly typical of the rest of that big world out there.”

“Ja. But maybe someday all the vorld vill be like this.”

“Maybe someday, but not now. And there are others out there who need us. Well, they need the X-Men, if not us specifically.”

“I am not an X-Man, you know.”

“Yeah. I know. I guess after Alcatraz, I just sorta thought of you as one of us. Sorry.”

It got silent then, both of us concentrating on eating dinner as if neither of us wished to bring up the question that hung in the air: Did I want to become an X-Man, or would I go back to Germany? I had not yet made up my mind, and probably neither had Logan, at least as far as whether he would prefer I go or stay.

Determined to break the uncomfortable silence, I once again launched myself into an enthusiastic description of the day’s events, this time focussed on the Whydah Museum. I’m afraid I went on about this for a rather long time, since I was still talking as Logan washed the dishes. The poor man had barely had a chance to get a word in sideways. Or is that edgewise?

As I stowed away the last of the silverware, Logan put a finger over my lips. 

“Kurt, how about shutting up for awhile, so we can do something else that’s even more fun than sailing? Huh?”

I pushed his finger away. “Vhat could possibly be more fun than that?” I asked, being deliberately obtuse.

“This, for starters.” 

So saying, he pulled me against him and kissed me for the first time, hard and long. I think you can guess where we went from there. Leaving a trail of clothing behind us, we made our way into the bedroom.

By the time we reached the bed, we were both totally naked, our hands and mouths greedily exploring as we lay side by side facing each other. Kisses and touches flowed together into a tightly-clenched squirming embrace, as we pressed ourselves together, the hair on Logan’s chest rubbing delightfully against my sensitive nipples, as I knew the raised scars on my chest had to be doing to him. Each panting breath enhanced the sensations.

As our cocks grew stiff, each seemed to automatically seek out the crevices between the other’s legs, pushing into the moist nest of pubic hair, pressing urgently against the side of a tight scrotum and forcing its way alongside a straining hard-muscled thigh. I had never done it this way before, but the full body contact was so wonderful that my tail automatically wound itself around our hips, holding us even more tightly together.

Hands clutched at back and shoulders, fingers and nails inflicting a sensation that verged on pain, and yet somehow only enhanced our desire.

It wasn’t long before we both came, but even then we didn’t want to separate immediately, just lying there entwined and satisfied in silence.

The niggling question my conscience insisted on asking intruded into my mind. Was what we had just done still nothing more than mutual masturbation? I silenced it quickly. After all, masturbation can include rubbing oneself against something, so the fact that we were rubbing against each other wasn’t really important.

I was still congratulating myself on my flawless logic after we rolled slightly apart, still breathless and exhausted, and I felt Logan’s hand on my chest, his fingers tracing the scars. I sighed softly to myself, knowing full well what was coming next. The only surprise was that he had not asked me sooner.

“You vant to know about them, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess I do. I haven’t asked you before, because I didn’t think we knew each other well enough, but I can’t help being curious. So what’s the deal with the scars?”

I hesitated just long enough for him to wonder if I was going to answer or not. 

He continued a bit uncertainly, “I mean, they don’t look like the sort of thing that would come from a terrible injury, so I have to conclude they were done deliberately. That so?”

“You vould be right in thinking that. Vould you like to take a further guess?”

“Umm. OK. They’re so neat and detailed that I doubt anyone could have held you down hard enough and long enough to have done all that against your will, especially that one on the shaft of your cock. And that’s assuming that you couldn’t have simply ported away. So it might have been before you were old enough to gain the ability to teleport. Unless, of course, you were able to do that from birth?”

He was getting too close for comfort. I hadn’t figured on that. “You are correct in that I vas not able to teleport at birth, even though I was born looking like I do now. As is true for most mutant abilities, mine did not develop until puberty.”

He looked at me. I averted my eyes.

“I’m going to go even further out on a limb here: you did it to yourself.”

“Vhy vould you think that?”

“Because they’re all on parts of your body that you could reach and see without the aid of a mirror.”

“Um.”

“So am I right?”

“Ja.”

As I did not expand on that, he asked, “Why?”

“I have only been asked that question once since I encountered the X-Men. I vill give you the same answer I gave Storm and Jean. There is one for every sin.”

“That leads directly to the next question: do you mean every sin that can be committed, or every sin that you yourself have committed?”

“I – do not vish to answer that now. It is a very long and painful story. I may tell you about it someday.” Or maybe not, I finished to myself alone.

“That’s OK. I guess I can wait. Let’s get some sleep, huh?”

“Tomorrow vill be a busy day. Ve vill do some shopping, ja? I have many stores I vould like to visit.”

Logan groaned and turned over. I snuggled up against his broad back and settled down for the night.

 

GERMAN TRANSLATIONS 

Sehr schön. Very pretty.

nicht wahr? Isn’t that right?

Sehr gut! Very good!

Danke Thanks

Jawohl! Yes, indeed!

Geh zum Hölle! Go to Hell!

Mein Gott! My God!

Mein Freund My friend

Danke, Herr Kapitän Thank you, captain

Aber natürlich! But of course!

Wunderbar! Wonderful!

 

IN THE BEGINNING . . . PART 3

AND GOD SAW EVERYTHING THAT HE HAD MADE . . .

 

"Since ve have agreed that ve vill do some shopping today, I vould like to see this Marine Specialties store, for one thing," I said, holding up a brochure as I sipped my first cup of coffee. 

"That would be a good place to start, if we must go shopping," Logan said, clearly resigned to the inevitable. "It's a real interesting place; kind of an army/navy surplus store on steroids. Was originally a fishing shed, but now it's got an incredible assortment of stuff, from clothing to knives and marine supplies. Great place to browse, and popular with the locals also, since there are often some very low prices."

"Then ve shall go there first," I said decisively.

 

The weather was nice, so we walked into town on Commercial Street, which wasn't as crowded today, being a Monday instead of a weekend. We passed many stores along the way, some not yet open this early in the year. But enough of them were open for business and were very tempting.

One of them was called Toys of Eros. I couldn't help stopping for a moment to see the display in the window.

 

http://www.yelp.com/biz_photos/toys-of-eros-provincetown?select=nbqdJD2gktspY1RMAcOsqw#nbqdJD2gktspY1RMAcOsqw

 

"This looks very -- interesting." 

"Yeah, it is. Very high quality sex shop. Nothin' sleazy about it, that's for sure. Wanna go in?"

"Not now. Maybe after ve see this Marine Specialty store. I am hoping it vill have a good selection of handsome young Marines for us to choose from."

Logan laughed. He knew I was kidding, since he didn't even bother to correct me.

Shortly after that, we reached our assigned destination. Even the displayed items out by the street were fascinating, but once we got inside, I just stared around, trying to remember to keep my mouth from sagging open in surprise. 

 

http://www.ptownarmynavy.com/about.html

 

There was almost everything one could imagine, from plastic toothbrush holders in bins to an old-fashioned diving suit hanging from the ceiling. Life preservers from long-gone ships decorated the walls, while a torpedo hung from a beam overhead. Old military uniforms rubbed shoulders with modern raincoats and sweaters. Shells and fishnets, minerals and glass hearts, candles and lanterns, hats of all kinds, cheap souvenirs made in China alongside old glass bottles.

All the way in the back, there was a real nautical supply shop, along with a glass case full of knives of all kinds and descriptions. I could not resist inspecting the merchandise; sharp shiny things have always caught my attention.

"Mein Gott!" I exclaimed. "A Nazi SS dagger!"

Logan came up behind me and glanced down at the knife display. "No, that's the SA, not the SS. The handle of an SS dagger would be black, not brown. And look at the motto on the blade: 'Alles für Deutschland' -- 'Everything for Germany'. If it were SS, it would say 'Meine Ehre heißt Treue' -- 'My honor is loyalty'."

He shook his head, still staring down at the glass case. "I always thought that if your honor was defined by your loyalty, then you damn well ought to be very careful what you choose to be loyal to."

When I didn't reply, he looked up at me. "Kurt? What's wrong? Why are you staring at me that way?"

I tried to shake off my astonishment. "Sprichst du Deutsch?" 

"Nein." A funny look crossed his face. "Uh - ich weiß nicht - I mean, I don't know. When I looked at that dagger, I just knew what it meant." 

"But you also understood vhat I just said vhen I asked if you spoke German."

"Um - yeah, I guess I did." He frowned. "Maybe I used ta know it and it just comes back to me now and then."

"It is not a language that is much studied in America or Canada these days."

Logan shrugged. 

So I persisted. "You must have learned it somevhere."

"I've got lots of gaps in my memory. Maybe this is one of them. If I was ever in Germany, I could have picked some of it up there. I'm real good at languages. I'm even fluent in Japanese, which is usually pretty hard for a Westerner to learn."

"But this is vonderful! Ve could practice. Maybe you vill remember more!" I was excited by now. Switching into rapid German, I started to tell him how much I have missed being able to speak to someone in my native tongue and how much I would appreciate such a thing.

He held up a hand. "Whoa there, buddy! You lost me after the first couple a' words. If I ever knew the language, I sure wasn't that fluent."

"Sorry. I got carried avay. I vill go slower."

He glanced around. "This isn't the place for a long discussion about language. We'll talk about it later, OK?"

It was only then that I noticed people were staring at us.

"Ja. Let us go," I replied quietly and calmly. "It is time for lunch anyvay."

 

After we had eaten, Logan asked if I liked to look at the gravestones in old cemeteries, since there was one dating back almost to the days of the Pilgrims.

"I have never done that, but it does sound interesting. But vhat about all those other stores?"

"We've got the rest of the day for that. C'mon. The cemetery's not far from here."

Indeed, it wasn't far at all. Just beyond Bradford Street and not far from the center of town, we found ourselves surrounded by flat slabs of gravestones dating from the 1700's.

"Ah, this is the graveyard ve saw from the Monument!"

"Yep. This is the old section. There's a modern part up over there." He pointed away from the Monument. "C'mon, let's take a look around. I get a kick out of some of the names folks had in those days."

As in many old graveyards, there was a predominance of infants’ and children's headstones, due to the many infectious diseases of childhood that have been virtually eliminated in modern days. There were also a goodly number of men who had died in old age and had several wives buried nearby. I guess childbirth also took its toll on the women back then.

I followed Logan up a slope that looked over the cemetery toward the Monument. He sat down at the edge of the slope, which turned out to be the top of a mausoleum, which was built into the hill beneath us. I settled down next to him, dangling my feet and my tail over the edge.

We sat there for a time in silence. Finally, I could stand it no longer.

"So, vhat about the German? How much do you know?"

He shook his head. "I'm not sure. Like I said earlier, beyond a certain point in time, I don't remember a lot of things from my past. However, I do know I've spent much of my life as a soldier, which isn't surprising, considering my claws and how easy it is for me to kill. I never got all the details from William Stryker, but he told me that much. I've got some vague recollections of being in both World Wars, and serving in Germany, so I've likely been exposed to the language then. Maybe I spent some time behind enemy lines, as a spy or maybe a prisoner. If so, I could have picked up a lot of common words and phrases used in ordinary conversation."

"True. Maybe that is it." An uneasy feeling ran through me at the thought of Logan being in my homeland during the Second World War. What if he saw the Nazi extermination camps? What would he think of my country if he had? But that's nonsense. Whether he saw such things in person or not, our national shame is known to all the world now. It is certainly not a secret, nor should it be. Of course, the Nazis did not invent genocide, nor are they the only ones to practice it, but they have become a sort of an archetype representing heartless, efficient mass murder. 

Contrary to what some people think, Jews were not the only victims. There were many others slaughtered in those days. Gays, gypsies, communists, mutants, political dissenters, the mentally ill, to name a few. 

More than once, I have wondered if I had been alive at that time, whether I myself might have -

No, surely not! I would not have been a Nazi. Being what I am, it was never even a possibility.

But still, if I had been alive then and I was not a mutant, faced with these choices, what would I have done? Would I have had the courage to oppose the Nazis? What if I had -- 

"Earth to Kurt. Come in, Kurt. I'm tryin' to talk to ya."

"Entschuldigung," I replied, snapping back to the present reality. "Vhat you said made me think of something."

He gave me a crooked grin. "Made me think of something also, and not something good."

I waited for an answer, and it came eventually. Staring out over the tombstones, he said softly, "What if I know so much German because I was a Nazi?"

"Mein Gott! That cannot be!"

"But I can't know for sure. There are so many dreams and half-formed memories, some of them - some of them of piles of emaciated bodies, starving prisoners behind barbed wire. How can I tell?"

"Those memories could just as easily come to you if you had been involved with liberating one of the concentration camps, rather than being one of those folks running them," I pointed out. My own fears were as nothing compared to what he must be feeling. Although I have seen the photos, and even visited one of the memorial sites, I have never seen such horrors in person.

I put an arm around his shoulders, wanting to offer some comfort.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. At least I hope you're right."

"I am alvays right, mein Freund. I am German, and Germans are alvays right." My tone of voice clearly said I was kidding.

He gave a short laugh. "Except when they're wrong."

"Ja. And vhen ve are wrong, ve are very very wrong. But ve vould prefer to think that ve are alvays right."

"Dream on, ya damn Kraut. Dream on."

We laughed, and I thought the dismal mood had been broken.

I was wrong. He stared out again over the ancient cemetery, then up at the Monument, and gave a sigh.

"All right, buddy, I gotta say this. Like I just said, I don't know much about my past, not even how old I am. I don't know for sure what I was like or what I did before I lost my memory. Don't even know what happened to destroy it. But whatever I did, a lot of it wasn't anything nice."

"If you do not remember, how can you tell?"

"As you noticed when I nearly skewered you the other night, I have nightmares that aren't full of the crazy stuff normally in dreams. It's more like what they call flashbacks nowadays. They're too realistic and too familiar, as if memories are trying to surface, but can't quite do it while I'm awake."

"Ja, you have just told me that."

"Yeah. But sometimes it's not modern weapons that I'm carrying. It's old stuff, like maybe the American Civil War. I'm wearing a blue uniform, with the enemy in gray."

"You are serious?"

"Never more so, darlin'. But even when it seems to be in the past, it's not all heroics, like you might see in movies. It's killing and sometimes being killed myself. And there's usually another guy with me, someone who heals like I do and doesn't die." He shakes his head quickly, as if he could dislodge those images by doing so. "There are even some times when I see my hands and the blades aren't there, just long pointed bony spikes, more like real claws." After a quick glance in both directions to be sure no one else is around, he extends the blades in his right hand. "Ever since the things I saw at Alkali Lake and found out from Stryker, I know I wasn't born like this, since the adamantium was all done later on, but maybe those other claws were part of my original mutation, along with the healing factor."

I do not know what to say. Does me want me to ask, or would that be unwanted prying? I say nothing. If he wishes to elaborate, he will.

"I never told anyone except Professor Xavier what happened when we invaded the underground facility at Alkali Lake, after I went off by myself looking for Stryker. I knew he had the answers to some of my past, which is why I wanted to talk to him so badly. Prior to that, when I first went there to investigate the surface facility, I had found a room that closely resembled some of my strangest nightmare sequences and bits of memories that I had never even been sure were real. Being submerged in a tank full of fluid. Pain so horrible that just the memory of it was almost unbearable." He closed his eyes for a minute. "Anyway, there was that same tank that I remembered, even though the facility itself was clearly deserted." 

Once again, I had no response. Even the mention of William Stryker's name sent a chill through me.

"Later on, when we returned, I located that underground room, but the tank now had a full vat of liquid adamantium next to it. Stryker was there, but he got away and left me with another mutant who was just as indestructible as I am and clearly under the influence of his drug. She was as deadly as she was beautiful, with fingernails that extended into adamantium claws. But her eyes looked like yours in the security tapes from the White House: pale blue. When I killed her, they changed back into their natural color, just as yours did, and I knew it hadn't been her choice to attack me, but rather Stryker's drug. When I saw the look of realization in her brown eyes, I wanted to cry. But there was no time for regret."

He turned to me. "I'm some kind of a man-made monster, Kurt. A killing machine. To quote something Stryker told me later on, 'You were an animal then, and you're an animal now. I just gave you claws'."

I shook my head in vehement denial. "No. You have told me you vere already a soldier even before that happened. The blades only made you better at it. They did not make you a monster."

He appeared totally flummoxed by my logic. "And this is supposed to reassure me?" he finally asked.

"Ja. Vhat you are is vhat you choose to be. No matter vhat Stryker did, you are still only vhat you choose to be. Like any mutant ability, it is up to you to use it for either good or evil. These blades, along vith the adamantium in your bones, only make you more dangerous, not more vicious. The choice is yours."

I took his hand and held it up in front of his face. "Does the metal in your body make you good or evil? Do these blades do your thinking? Or does your brain?"

"Sometimes I'm just not sure." He looked at me. "There's a crazy, nasty side of me that you haven't really seen yet. But I am sure of one thing. For some reason, you seem to bring out the better side of me."

"And that is a good thing, ja?"

"Yeah. But it means you ain't seein' all of me."

I looked him up and down appraisingly. "Maybe not. But I have seen a lot, and vhat I have seen, I like very much."

"Thanks, darlin'. But I'm tryin' ta warn ya about what else you're gonna find that maybe you won't like nearly so well."

I turned serious. "I know that and I appreciate the varning. I like vhat I have seen so far, and I do not just mean vith my eyes. I vill deal vith vhat I have not seen vhen it appears."

He seemed satisfied with that, but there was more I needed to say to him. 

"Mein Freund, has it occurred to you that you may not have seen all there is of me either? Although I vill deny being a demon, I certainly cannot claim to be an angel."

"If you're gonna tell me you're an axe murderer, I'll tell you right now that I ain't gonna believe it for a minute."

"No, I am not an axe murderer, but it vas nothing but sheer luck that I did not murder the president of this country. If his bodyguard had not shot me, I vould have plunged that knife into his heart."

"That wasn't your fault. Stryker's drug -"

"Stryker's drug vas probably not as vell perfected as it vas later, or its hold on me vould not have been disrupted by the pain of a minor wound. You said you fought to the death with the female mutant. Did any of the wounds you inflicted on her free her from his control?"

"No. You're right. He must have improved it a lot, if it was able to control my opponent, not to mention a powerful telepath like Charlie."

"Charlie?"

"Professor Xavier. I used ta call him that to bug him."

"Oh."

Abruptly, he plunged his claws into the hard-packed earth next to his legs. "I just don't know, damnit!"

"There are things that ve may be better off not knowing."

Pulling his hand loose from the ground, he retracted the claws.

"I - I'd like to just sit here alone for a while and think things over, Kurt. If you don't mind."

"I do not mind. I vill go back to town and look at a few of those interesting shops I noticed earlier. Then I vill meet you back at the campground by suppertime. Vould that be good?"

"Yeah. Fine." 

 

When I got back to our motor home, Logan was already there, making sandwiches. He seemed to be more at ease than he had been when I left him in the cemetery. Maybe it was just a mood brought on by those Nazi daggers. As for me, I was a bit nervous about what I had bought in town, since I didn't know how he might react to it. Maybe I shouldn't have gotten it, but I just couldn't resist the temptation.

"Hey, Kurt! Sit down. What do ya want, ham and cheese or turkey and lettuce? We got both."

I slid my shopping bag underneath the table as I sat down. "Turkey vould be good. Um - how about a beer to go vith it?"

"Comin' up, buddy."

Yes, he definitely sounded more cheerful. Maybe a beer or two would help me screw up my courage a bit. 

 

After we ate, I reached under the table for my bag.

"I bought something I thought ve might vant to play vith. Vould you like to see it?"

I knew my face was probably turning slightly purple, as it always does when I blush, but I hoped he hadn't noticed.

"Uh-oh. Why do I get the feeling that you went into that fancy sex shop - what's the name?"

So much for hoping he didn't notice. Wordlessly, I held up the bag, so he could see the name of the shop emblazoned in gold letters on the black plastic bag.

"Toys of Eros. Yeah that's it."

"It has a lot of - interesting things, many of vhich are quite expensive. But this did not cost too much."

I took a plastic pouch out from the bag, opened it, and dumped the contents onto the table. I couldn't quite bring myself to meet his eyes, so I poked at the cuffs and woven straps with a finger. "This is called an under bed restraint system."

Logan looked at them, then picked up one of the straps and examined it closely.

"Kurt, these things wouldn't hold either of us. I could slice this stuff apart easily, and you -"

"- could just as easily port out of them. Das weiß ich. But that is not the point. These are toys to be played vith, and for that one is not supposed to escape. It is a game. You must use your imagination."

I gave him what I hoped was a tentative smile. He raised an eyebrow.

"Ya know, for someone who claims to be a good Catholic boy, you know about some pretty strange things."

"I - uh -- read a lot. It is possible to learn lots of things that vay, vhether or not one has ever experienced them in person."

"I suppose."

We were silent for a while, then Logan went on, "OK, I admit it, I'm not all that innocent about this game either. So who did you figure to be wearin' these things? You or me?"

I tried to sound very casual and offhand as I told him, "Me, to begin vith. After all it vas my idea to buy them."

"I could go with that," he replied, sounding relieved. "But don't think I can't play that game from the other side, if I'm in the mood. I don't always have to be on top, if you know what I mean. I can be flexible."

"I am very glad to hear that. Doing the same thing in the same vay can become boring."

"Yeah, that it can. Speaking of the same thing, you ready for another beer?"

"Ja, bitte."

The cuffs sat prominently in the middle of our kitchen table as we started on our second round of beer.

"So the long straps run under the mattress, right?" he finally asked.

"Ja. And the straps clip to the cuffs, once everything is in place."

Logan gave me a long look. "Ya really got this all figured out, didn't ya?"

I ducked my head, looked up at him from beneath my eyelashes, smiled, and nodded slightly. 

He grinned, rather like a wolf eyeing his prey. Maybe I had bitten off more than I could chew? But I could not back out now.

"I think I'm gettin' some ideas about how to use these things. But remember, you gotta agree not to seriously try to get loose."

I nodded. 

He thought about it a little more. "How about a gag?"

"Nein, I do not like that."

"Okay, but then you gotta pretend you're gagged and keep quiet. Deal?"

"Me? Be quiet?" I joked.

He was dead serious. "Yep."

"All right, it is a deal." After all, how bad could that be?

"Oh, I forgot. There is something else in the bag." I pulled out a black leather blindfold and held it out toward him.

"O - Kay," he said slowly, examining it. "Adjustable. Looks comfortable. You got anymore surprises in your black bag?"

"Nein. Das ist alles."

"Then how about you go get cleaned up while I give this some more thought?"

Swallowing the rest of my beer in a few gulps, I started stripping off my clothes as I ducked into our minuscule bathroom for a quick shower.

 

I had barely walked into the bedroom when Logan grabbed me and shoved me down on the bed on my back. Before I knew it, I was wearing the cuffs I had bought, my wrists secured near the top of the bed and my ankles near the bottom, with the blindfold over my eyes. I had just enough slack to turn over if I wanted to do so, but that was about it. I started to say something, but his hand was over my mouth before I could get a word out, reminding me I had agreed to be silent.

"All right, matey," he said, with a deliberately gruff voice that I almost didn’t recognize as Logan’s. "I expect ye to be still and let me figure out just what ye may be afore I decide what to do with ya. Ye should be grateful that I didn't leave ya on that slave ship we plundered, so if ye've got a brain in that head of yours, ye'll cooperate.

"My men tell me ye fought like a wildcat and screeched some incomprehensible gibberish at them, so they had to tie and gag ye like this. Do ye understand what I'm sayin'? No, don't talk, just nod your head if you do."

I nodded shortly and curled my lip back into a sneer, trying to give the impression of a brave and defiant captive.

"Ah, good! Much better to have a prisoner who knows what's bein' said. Easier to deal with. Ye should be glad of your strange appearance, because the only thing that saved you from remaining on that slave ship was my curiosity.”

I could almost feel his eyes raking lewdly over my naked body.

"And just what might ye be, eh? I would have said some sort of devil, except that ye've got no horns and devils are supposed to be red, not blue. Ye've certainly got a devil's tail, though."

A hand grasped the end of my tail, but I yanked it out of his grip. I could feel his breath as he leaned over me and grasped it again, this time closer to the base, squeezing just a little too hard to be comfortable. 

"Ye don't pull away from me if I want to touch ye, devil. Keep that in mind, or I'll hurt ya worse. Understand?"

I nodded and let my tail go limp. He released it, then ran a finger down my chest. "And all these designs carved into your hide. I've seen that sort of thing on savages from many lands, but never this particular style. And your eyes. They could as easily reflect the fires of Hell as the glories of Heaven. How can I be sure which it is, monster?"

Obviously, I could not answer, as I was supposed to be gagged.

"And why should the likes of me even care whether you're a devil or an angel, eh? The Gates of Heaven are already closed for me. So what shall I do with ye, now that I've taken ye captive, hmm? Ye're not a bad lookin' specimen of a man," he concluded. I imagined his eyes on my cock, which was definitely starting to show an interest in what was going on. "Maybe I can find a good use for ye, after all. But first, I intend to inspect this tail more closely. Turn over."

When I just lay there, he grabbed one shoulder and tried to force me to turn, but still I held my ground. "Or would ye rather I get out the cat-o-nine-tails and teach ya what it costs to disobey the captain?"

I rolled over, knowing full well how vicious that sort of a whip could be, since it had been used on me more than once on the slave ship. There was barely enough slack to allow me to turn over, but I managed it.

Again, his hand touched my tail, but I slithered it out of his grip and swiped him so hard with it that I could hear him hit the floor. After all, the only thing I had promised was not to teleport. I never said anything about fighting back.

The pirate captain was up and at me immediately. "Do that again, ye heathen bastard," he hissed in my ear, "and I'll slice the damn thing off. And maybe somethin' else along with it."

This time, I didn't resist when he took hold of my tail. He moved it around in different directions, while tracing the muscles moving beneath the surrounding skin with the fingers of his other hand, following the vertebrae in my spine down into my tail, and probing at the muscles around the base, almost as if he were trying to figure out how it was attached to my body, and how the bones and muscles worked.

Well, he certainly wasn’t the first person to be curious about that.

I had seen x-rays of my injured tail at the Mansion, so I had a very vivid picture in my mind of how it connects to my spine. On an ordinary human, the lower part of the spine turns into the fused and modified vertebral bodies of the sacrum, which fits closely against the sides of the two large pelvic bones to either side of it. Below those joints, a series of very small bones continue on to form the coccyx. The sacrum is normally somewhat tilted so that the top is slightly forward and the bottom backward. The coccyx, however, does just the opposite, curling in the other direction.

In me, and in most animals with tails, while the sacrum does tilt in that same direction, beneath it there is instead a continuation of my spine, becoming my tail, which continues downwards and backwards out of my body, rather than tapering down into a tiny and useless coccyx that curves inward. I also happen to have a lot more than the normal number of vertebrae in my spine, which adds considerably to my flexibility in general.

By now, my pirate captain was trying to trace the outlines of what I have just described, feeling for the much flatter ridge of my sacrum just above where my tail leaves my body and following it along to my tail itself, which I obligingly held as still as possible.

"Raise it up as high as you can," he ordered gruffly.

I obeyed, lifting my tail as far as it goes, which is only far enough to form a little more than a right angle with my back, except, of course, that the further it gets from the connection, the more of a curve it can describe, until it gets far enough that it can eventually coil into a tight loop as the individual bones become smaller and shorter.

There was something incredibly erotic about the feel of his hands on my tail. Normally, it is not so sensitive, except at the end. But this was different. The fantasy was becoming disturbingly real, especially since I could not see what he was doing. I was tied helplessly, at the mercy of someone I did not know. A pirate captain, clearly a dangerous man. I was a captive, as I had been the captive of the slavers, but they had mistreated me badly, laughing and taunting me, hurting me. For all that he was a pirate, he was not misusing me cruelly. Or at least, not yet.

He probed the area just below my tail, which is also just barely inside the cleft of my buttocks. As he reached that one certain spot between my tail and my anus, I sighed softly at the lovely sensation, but not softly enough to escape his notice.

"Oh, ye like that, do ye?" he demanded. "Is that as far as your tail can bend upwards?" 

I nodded my head.

"Off to the sides. What angle can you make there?"

I demonstrated obediently, swishing it cautiously from one side to the other in order not to hit him and get him angry again. I was able to bring the section near the base somewhat closer to the sides of my pelvis than I could previously raise it toward the rest of my spine.

"Very interesting. And very tempting. Maybe I can put you to good use indeed, my devil." His hands reached around and underneath me, grasping my nipples as he pressed himself down on my back, pinning my tail off to one side in the process.

Suddenly overwhelmed with desire, my body arched, thrusting my chest forward against the hands that caressed me, my legs spreading open as far as the straps would allow them. His erection poked against my back. Still working my nipples, he thrust his hips harder down against me, so that his cock was now searching beneath my tail for that sensitive spot he had found earlier with his fingers.

But when he touched it, something inside me stirred uncomfortably. Yet again, I was restrained, unable to move or get away. Some part of my mind knew full well that I could escape easily if I wanted to, but something else insisted that I couldn't, I was caught, trapped by someone bigger and stronger than I was. 

I tried to ignore it, even as my pirate captain’s hands moved around to grasp my hips, clearly ready to hold me in place if I didn’t cooperate.

A spike of fear struck through my mind. By now, I wanted desperately to feel his cock inside me, but some part of me very definitely did not. Something hidden far deeper in my mind. Something already screaming and begging to be released.

"Ye're mine now," my tormenter said roughly. 

That was enough to make me freak out completely, as the unacknowledged things inside my head just took over. Like a wild animal, I fought against being held, but I somehow couldn't remember how to teleport, so it was useless.

Suddenly, it was as if a door burst open into my own personal version of hell, where I had stored away and tried to forget things that I couldn't bear to remember.

I was helpless, tied or otherwise restrained, young and weak and at the mercy of my elders. Or was I drugged so that I could barely manage to think straight, much less concentrate enough to teleport, or worst of all, condemned without mercy to eternal damnation? 

Jumbled images, sensations, faces snarling with hatred or twisted into mindless lust, mocking voices, cruel laughter.

Broken, shattered bits of what I recognized as my own memories. 

A voice speaking to me in German. 

"Hold still, my little devil-child. Hold still and accept this, or I'll make you very very sorry." And the pain as my child's body was used yet again to satisfy an adult's lust. And the confusion of the pleasure that often came along with the pain. 

Another voice, more recently heard, and far more vicious. 

"This one is trying to resist the drug. I'll give you three days to soften him up. I want him broken, no matter how you do it, but not badly damaged physically or he'll be useless to me. Use your imagination."

And the repeated vicious rape, that I could not prevent nor even get my mind to truly comprehend. More beatings and pain; orders which my drugged brain tried to resist obeying. I held out against the familiar pain, since it was something I had felt before.

And finally the catheter, which was forced roughly into me, so I could not help pissing on myself as my captors laughed and mocked me. The final indignity, as one of them emptied his own bladder into mine through that same catheter, while another filled my ass with his urine at the same time. That total loss of control sent me into a blank stupor, and I just did what I was told to do from then on, not caring.

Yet another voice, thunderous, booming, furious, overwhelmingly powerful.

"Thou shalt not lie with a man as with a woman. It is an abomination. Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire."

All this, in the flash of a second.

"Nein! Nein! No!" I heard myself screaming over and over, as my mind cleared enough to let me flip over and fight with teeth, feet, and tail against these monsters of my own conjuring.

By the time I gained control and stopped fighting, the blindfold had been knocked off and I could see Logan's blood dripping down his lacerated face and chest from where I had bitten him savagely during my struggles. I could only guess at the damage my feet and tail had done to the rest of him, but he still held me tightly. I squeezed my eyes closed and began to cry. 

Gradually, I became aware of the words he was repeating over and over. 

"It's all right. It's all right. Take it easy, darlin'. I ain't gonna hurt ya. Relax now. You don't have to cry. Take it easy. It's gonna be all right."

"I - I - " But the words wouldn't come.

"Don't say anything. Relax. Just be still, that's it. It's all right. You're OK. You can get away anytime you want."

"I know. But there was a time when I couldn't. I --"

Gott sei dank, he didn't ask about that time.

"Open your eyes. Look at me." 

I forced my eyes open. The blood was still there, but the damage I had done was fading even as I watched. I took a shaky breath.

"I hurt you," I said, ashamed.

"Ya can't hurt me. I just heal. Remember? Stop it now. Everything's OK."

It took me a bit longer to fully absorb that, but I finally realized he was correct.

"Ya all right now?"

I nodded.

"Want me to let you loose?"

I nodded again. He released my wrists and ankles from the cuffs. When he started to move away, I wrapped my arms around him and held him down next to me. "No. Stay here."

"Ya sure?"

"Ja. Just hold me."

He did, letting me rest my head against his chest and stroking my hair with his free hand. "Wanna tell me what that was all about?"

I shook my head. "I cannot. I am not sure I know myself. It vas just blind panic."

"I wasn't gonna do that to you, ya know."

"Vhat do you mean?"

"What you thought I was gonna do when you freaked out. I was just playin' with ya." When I didn't answer, he continued, "I guess I shouldn't have, huh? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I fucked up."

"It is OK. The fault vas mine. A penis aimed at my ass does not really terrify me. I just - it brought back memories I thought I had put behind me." 

Somewhere inside, I felt like crying again, but all I did was cling to him tighter. Despite everything, my body still desired him, so I was fairly hard. I felt his cock pressing against mine. I shifted my hips a little, trying to get more comfortably situated. He moved also, until we were pressed tightly together, his cock between my thighs and mine between his.

"I wasn't gonna force you," he said again.

"Ja. Das weiss ich," I admitted. "I do not think it vas you that I vas afraid of. It vas - something else."

"Um. Guess I can understand that. I've got enough of my own ghosts haunting my mind. No reason you can't have a few of your own, huh?"

He was still stroking my hair, running his fingers over it gently, as if he were petting a cat. "You're safe now, my fierce blue devil," he said jokingly. "But why didn't you just teleport away?"

"It vas as if I could not, or had forgotten how. Or maybe did not yet realize I could do it," I mused, puzzled.

His hand moved down from my head and across my back and shoulders, still petting me. It was immensely calming and immensely exciting at the same time.

"It was the restraints, wasn't it?"

"Vas?"

"You know. Being tied up so you couldn't get away. Forget the fact that you really could have gotten away. That's what set you off."

"Possibly," I replied, considering what he said.

"Maybe - bear in mind, I'm no shrink - but maybe all that was something that you needed to be reminded of, for some reason, and you knew it."

The memory of that overpowering Voice condemning me to Hell made me shiver. Was it really my conscience, reminding me of the sin I was wishing to commit? Or Someone even more powerful than my conscience? I shook my head in denial, even as I wondered if that could have been possible.

No, I would not believe that! If some part of my mind was trying to tell me something, I did not want to hear what it had to say.

"I'm all right now," I said firmly.

"Ya sure?"

"Ja, sicher, mein Piratenkapitän," I told him, grinning at him lasciviously.

"Very well then, creature. And be ye the darkest devil from Hell, I'll have ye, whether ye will it or not. Put up a fight again, and I'll see ye danglin' from the yardarm, instead of lyin' here in me bed."

My pirate captain was back again, and I was glad to see him.

He leered down at me, ordering gruffly, "Lie still," as his hand traveled over to my nipple and he started stroking it with his open palm. 

I sucked in a short breath and let it out in a shaky sigh.

"Ya like that, don't ya, ye lusty monster?"

"Ummm."

I closed my eyes, as he leaned up and over my chest, replacing his hand with his mouth. My only response was to arch my back and moan. I know there are many men who do not enjoy having their nipples touched or handled at all, but I am not one of them. His mouth was alternately demanding, drawing me in and almost making it hurt, then easing off and doing nothing more than flicking the hard nub with the end of his tongue.

I have often wondered how it feels for a woman to have her breasts sucked. I could not imagine how it could possibly feel better than it did for me, but I do not know for sure. Perhaps, as with men, it varies according to the person. I'm sorry for those who cannot feel it, regardless of sex.

I could have come if he did nothing more than this, but it would take some time. Almost without my volition, my hand reached down for his half-hard penis.

The pirate swatted my hand away with a growl. Then he disentangled us rather abruptly, switching around so that his head was toward my feet and vice versa. Wrapping his arms around me, he rolled over, so that I was lying on top of him, staring down at his cock. His mouth engulfed my own organ, sucking as avidly on that as he had been on my nipple.

This was not a position I commonly used, although I have at times done it with both partners lying on their sides. Even so, I have never been able to take another man's penis into my mouth, since my fearsome teeth pose too big a hazard to the integrity of anything that might venture to invade that particular orifice. Nevertheless, I did the best I could with my hands, tongue, and lips, while he worked diligently on me.

It was all sensation now, with the fingers on one hand squeezing, feeling, rubbing the delicious length of his shaft, while my tongue coaxed his foreskin back further in order to lick the engorged cockhead. I played with his penis as if it were a toy, or perhaps a lollipop, enjoying the smooth moist skin against my tongue, the slight salty taste of pre-cum. 

Bringing my other hand behind his scrotum, which was now pulled tight against his body, I ran a finger along the bulge beneath his perineum, where the root of a man's penis continues internally and attaches to the pubic bones. Too much pressure there can stop ejaculation, but just the right amount can be especially delightful.

Then Logan released my cock from his mouth and sucked my balls in to take its place. I almost pulled away, since this can be rather frightening if you don't expect it. But in a moment, I relaxed and went along with it. Very soon I wished I could be doing the same thing for him. Instead, I contented myself with wrapping a hand around both his cock and his balls, massaging both together. 

Since we were rather tightly engaged, neither of us moved a lot, so we had time to simply enjoy the sensuous feel of what was being done to each by the other. For a brief moment, I faltered. Surely, this could no longer be considered quite in the same category as mutual masturbation? 

But then, all I was doing was using my hands, and maybe my mouth a little, on him, and he was only using his mouth, not any other more meaningful body part. So maybe it would not qualify as true sex, I told my smoldering conscience, immediately banishing it from my thoughts. I had better things to think about at that moment, the foremost of which was holding back on ejaculating, as Logan had by now gotten his mouth around my cock again and I knew I wouldn't last much longer.

I wanted him to be more ready, so we could both come at least close to the same time. Without thinking, I took the finger that was stroking behind his penis and began working it around his anus. I had no lube handy, so I didn't really want to push it in, especially considering my fingernails. But I didn't have to, in order to obtain the desired result. He moaned, sucking even harder and drawing me fully down his throat, even as his cock started to quiver and jerk frantically. 

I threw back my head and felt my body tremble as I shot my load down his throat. I am always surprised at how truly wonderful such a foolish thing as that can feel. Knowing Logan had to be close, I leaned down and covered the end of his cock with my lips, licking and tonguing him carefully, but keeping my teeth away from his cockhead. 

As I enthusiastically sucked his cum into my mouth and swallowed all I could get, he moaned something that sounded like "Oh, fucking shit!"

Exhausted, I rolled off him and lay gasping on the bed.

Then something occurred to me rather later than it should have.

"Logan - uh - shouldn't ve have been using condoms for something like this?" I asked, as soon as I had caught my breath.

"With most people, yeah. But one of the many advantages of my healing factor is that I can't catch anything from you or anyone else without it being cured virtually instantly, so in return, I can't infect anyone else, no matter what we do." He grinned widely. "One might say that I am the personification of safe sex. The only thing anyone can get from me is pregnant, darlin'. And since you're clearly not a female, I don't think we have to worry about that, do we?"

"Wunderbar! I had not thought of that."

We fell asleep still rather stickily entwined. I woke up a couple of times during the night, but each time my conscience tried to protest, I told it to shut the fuck up and leave me alone. For that one night, I was the captive blue devil of a lusty pirate, and that was all I ever wanted to be.

 

I woke up to the sound of rain on the roof, with my back resting against Logan’s. It felt slightly itchy because of all the hair. I was not used to that, but it made me smile.

"You awake, Kurt?"

"Ja." I moved away and stretched luxuriously, as he rolled onto his back, clasping his hands beneath his head.

"Guess that fantasy didn't work out too well for us, did it?"

"It vas kind of fun, until I vent crazy on you," I said tentatively.

He smiled. "Good. I was enjoyin' it myself."

"You like to tie people up and rape them?"

"Huh? No, not for real. Fantasies aren't supposed to be taken literally. Why, half the time they aren't even possible or would probably not turn you on if you did it in real life."

"I - suppose you are right."

"The cuffs were your idea, ya know," he reminded me.

"Ja, they vere. I guess I do not mind if you enjoy imagining doing things like that to me."

"I'm glad. It can be a whole lot of fun, if it works out right." He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, then looked back at me with a broad smile. "Next time, I'll be more careful to make sure it works out right." He hesitated. "That is, if you want there to be a next time."

I had to consider that for a bit. What happened last night had been terrifying, but I had gotten over it. "Ja, I vould try it again. It might be fun."

"I was hopin' you would say that. Fantasies can be a whole lot of fun."

I could not resist a comeback. "I just hope it is alvays me you are fantasizing about, mein Freund."

"Well," he said slowly, appearing a little shame-faced, "sometimes I like to think about women. But if it's a guy, I promise it will almost always be you."

"Almost alvays?" I raised an indignant eyebrow at this, feigning more displeasure than I truly felt.

"Yeah," he came back, sounding dead serious. "We're not exactly married, ya know. And even if we were, I still figure our own private fantasies are allowed to be whatever we want them to be."

Finally, I granted him a smile. "Ja, they are. Besides, if ve ever do have a real relationship, I vould prefer it to be open rather than closed."

"You mean we'd be free to screw around with other people?"

"Ja."

"That wouldn't bother you any?"

"I thought that vas vhat I just said."

"Just makin' sure there was no misunderstanding, darlin'. That sort of thing can have its own problems."

"I know. But vould you not prefer it like that?"

"Honestly? I'm not sure. I have a tendency to be possessive about what's mine."

"Oh, so do I. I vould be possessive about vanting your love, but not so much about having the exclusive use of your body." I saw an unfamiliar expression on his face. "Have I gone too far, speaking of love vhen all ve are doing is having sex?"

"I'm - not sure. I'm not usually the romantic type."

"I am avare of that, and I do not expect romance from you." I looked at him coyly. "Sex is more than enough for now."

He was about to get up, but I wrapped my tail around his waist. "Do you really think I am a devil?"

"Nah. You look more like an elf."

"An elf? Since vhen am I an elf?!" I protested indignantly.

"Since now. That's what you remind me of."

"Hmph! An elf is a foolish little creature. I do not vish to be called such a thing."

"Haven't ya ever seen 'The Lord of the Rings'?"

"Vhat is this Lord of the Rings?"

"A movie."

I shrug. "And these elfs, are they also blue vith tails?"

"'Fraid not. The only things I've ever heard of that have a tail like yours are devils."

I sighed and unwrapped my tail so he could get up. "Sometimes I think I vas meant to be a devil but just ended up in the wrong place."

"No, darlin'. You're in the right place now." He leaned back around and kissed the top of my head. "Besides, if those elves don't have tails, that's just so much the worse for them. They're tall, slender, gorgeous-looking, and they have pointy ears. Just like you."

All my life, for obvious reasons, I have been called a devil. But this man calls me an elf. And a gorgeous elf at that.

"Oh. Vell, in that case --" I smiled broadly, giving him a good look at my equally pointy teeth, "-- I vill not mind if you vish to call me that."

Logan got up and glanced out the small window in our bedroom.

"Looks like it's gonna rain on and off all day, like the NOAA weather forecast predicted. Not very good for outdoor activities."

"I had hoped ve could go to that Glass Museum today. That vould be indoors."

He shook his head. "Yeah, but we'd have almost an hour's ride on the bike just to get there. Could be done, but not as safe as on a clear day. And not nearly as comfortable. Maybe we should do some other stuff, like our laundry. They have washers and dryers available here at Coastal Acres. Me, I'm just about down to wearin' dirty clothes, or buying some new ones. How about you?"

"Same for me. I could not take everything I vould have, since ve vere traveling by motorcycle. And if ve vere to buy more clothes, how vould ve get them home?"

He shrugged. "Send them by mail. Same as we'd do if we'd bought a lot of stuff when we went shopping."

"I had not thought of that. Now I can buy more souvenirs!"

"Uh -- yeah -- I guess. If you want. So how about the laundry after breakfast?"

"Uh -- yeah -- I guess," I answered, using the same tone of resignation he had used when referring to more souvenirs.

 

An hour later, we sat in the laundry room, listening to the drip of rain on the roof and reading leftover magazines. By the time everything was done, the rain had stopped, but it was still chilly and overcast, with the dark clouds holding the threat of more rain quite literally over our heads. I sighed unhappily.

"After we get our stuff put away," Logan suggested, as we hurried back to the motor home with our clean laundry, "we could at least take a walk into town, if you're willing to take a chance on getting soaked. We could go to the town library and check our email or whatever on their computers."

I guess I didn't look too enthusiastic about that, because he added nonchalantly, "There's a half-scale replica of the Rose Dorothea at the library, you know. She was a famous fishing schooner. Won some kind of a big race, in the old days."

"There is?! Vhy did you not tell me that first?"

"Just wanted to build up the suspense, darlin'. I take it you want to go, huh?"

"Aber natürlich! And ve could get some lunch vhile ve are in town also, nicht wahr?"

"Sure. But wear some warm clothes, and we'll take the ponchos too, just in case. I have a feeling these clouds aren't ready to give up just yet."

 

They weren't. By the time we got to the library, we were already quite damp, despite the dubious protection of our plastic ponchos and my attempts to port us as far as I could to keep us dry. We took the ponchos off and stuffed them into Logan's knapsack just inside the library door.

"Vhere is the Rose of Dorothy?" I asked him eagerly.

"Rose Dorothea. Second floor. Up those stairs over there. I'm gonna go see if we can get the use of a computer for a time. There's probably a small fee or something."

"I vill be upstairs."

"I'll come get you when I'm done and you can check your email too."

http://www.provincetown-ma.gov/index.aspx?NID=690

 

http://www.flickr.com/photos/chailey/3590849540/in/photostream/

 

Seeing a sailing vessel on the second floor of a building was unusual enough, but this one had the masts sticking up into holes that had been cut into the ceiling and a bowsprit that poked into an anteroom. Curved bookshelves and display tables curved along either side of the hull, while the usual crowded shelves one would expect in a library ran along the walls of what was apparently the Children’s Room.

I wandered around the ship, inspecting the old-fashioned rigging and reading whatever I could find about the Rose Dorothea herself. It took great self-control for me not to port up onto the deck, but I had a feeling such behavior would be frowned upon rather sternly, so I restrained myself.

It wasn’t too long before Logan joined me there, asking if I wanted to check my own email, now that he was finished with his.

As we headed for the stairs, he noticed a photograph on the wall. Tapping it with his finger, he told me, "Look. This is the guy responsible for overseeing the building of the model."

I studied the picture and the short blurb that accompanied it. "His name vas Flyer? Vas he a mutant who could fly?"

"'Fraid not. But he was one heck of a character, that's for sure."

"You knew him?"

"Yeah, a little." He smiled fondly at the thought of the old man in the picture. 

“This Flyer must have been an interesting man.”

“That he was, Elf. That he was.”

 

It didn’t take me long to check my email, so we were soon on our way out of the library.

"That was quick,” Logan remarked. “Not much mail?"

"Nein. I am not very good at email. It is too hard to type that much, vith my fingers. I vill never be a touching typist, that is for sure."

"Touch typist, Elf."

"That is the second time you have called me Elf as if it is my name."

"Ya mind? I like calling people by various names."

"Shall I now start calling you Claws?"

"Uh - well, maybe that wouldn't be such a good idea. Look, if ya really don't like the Elf bit, I won't do it. Okay? Maybe I can think of something else." He gave me an evil grin. "How about Misfit? Or maybe just Blue?"

"I think - I really do not mind if you just stick to Elf. After all, it is much better than many other things I have been called. Or could be called," I added with a meaningful glare. "However, it may take some time for me to get used to it. Elf is also the German vord for eleven, and I am not used to being called by a number."

Logan laughed. 

 

By the time we got back, we were damp and I was chilly, so I stripped off my soggy clothes and headed for our shower. I had just gotten the water nice and hot and was in the middle of washing my hair, when Logan stepped into the shower stall next to me. There was hardly room for one of us, much less two, but he didn’t give me time to object. Before I knew it, his hands had replaced mine and he was scrubbing my hair. As I tilted my head back to rinse out the shampoo, he began to soap up the rest of me, back and front and down my legs, slowly and thoroughly. Then he started on my tail, using both hands and lots of soap.

The water ran over us and between us, hot enough to create quite a bit of steam in the chilly bathroom. He was as thoroughly soaked by now as I was, the thick hair on his chest and back clinging to his skin in dark streaks, his cock and balls hanging heavily down between his legs. 

As his hands continued to stroke my tail, he said, "Ya know, Elf, you could make a lot more use of your tail than you usually do."

"Vhat do you mean?"

"Well, if I had a tail like that, I could think of lots of ways it would come in handy at - uh - certain times. I'm surprised you haven't thought of that already."

"I have had -- a few bad experiences with that sort of thing in the past."

"Really? What happened?"

A brief thought flashed across my mind, the memory of being punished for what was called a Tail Infraction, when I was very young. But I did not even want to remember that, much less tell it to Logan, so I only told him half of the truth. 

"Sometimes I have scared people out of my bed by using my tail at the wrong time."

"Well, ya won't scare me that way, pal. I like your tail. In fact, I wouldn't mind havin' one myself."

"Really? Then I vill keep that in mind."

By then, I was rinsed clean, cozy and warm under the stream of water. And my cock was beginning to stiffen from the sensation of his hands caressing my tail, which was now quivering with anticipation.

Without a word, Logan pushed me gently back so that I was leaning against the side of the shower stall, knelt in front of me, and took my cock into his mouth almost before I knew what he was doing. The water hitting me on the chest and sluicing down through my fur only added to my arousal.

I closed my eyes and enjoyed the various sensations that were bombarding me, my tail automatically curling around behind his back and slithering around over the wet flesh. The under surface of most of my tail plus the flat part of the barbed end massaged his back and ass. It must have felt as good to him as it did to me, because he arched his body and sucked even harder.

I didn’t ever want it to end, so incredibly much pleasure was it giving me to feel the sensual slide of my tail rubbing over him. I had never sought to use my tail like this, just caressing and rubbing the under surface across something. Combined with the beating of the water on the upper surface, I’d have been totally aroused even if he hadn’t had his mouth around me.

I slide the tip between his thighs, edging past his tight balls and going far enough to get a rather clumsy coil around his cock.

At the same time, I grabbed his head and pulled it roughly into my groin, coming into his mouth in several hard spasms. In much too short a time, it was over. I let go of him. He immediately freed his mouth, clutched my hips with both hands and gasped, “Don’t stop!”

I realized my tail was still pressed hard against his back and wrapped around his cock. I didn’t stop what it was doing until he emptied himself into the steaming water that ran down between us, as I watched, entranced by the sight and sensation of what my tail seemed almost determined to do on its own.

When I released him, he stood up and stared at me from unfocussed eyes. I took the soap and started rubbing it over him. It washed off almost as soon as I put it on, but that was good enough.

“Vas that the sort of thing you had in mind for my tail, mein Freund?” I asked, with what was probably a very wicked grin on my face.

“Not exactly, but close enough.” He shook his head, flinging even more water around, then turned off the shower. “Let’s get out of here before we both dissolve, huh?”

We spent the rest of that day reading and watching a few TV shows, as the rain continued on and off to remind us of its presence by beating on our roof. I finished most of the book I had bought about the pirate ship, while Logan read a copy of the “Men’s Journal” that he had taken from the laundry room.

 

The following morning was still gray, but it was an intermittent drizzle, no longer a series of downpours.

"Weather forecast is for it to clear up later on this morning,” Logan announced. “If that happens, we'd have time to head to the Glass Museum this afternoon. It's only about an hour's ride, and we could stop for lunch along the way. Sound good to you?"

"Ja, very good."

"All right then."

"So vhat shall ve do in the meantime?"

"How about the same thing we did yesterday?"

"But I do not need a shower yet."

"I wasn't talkin' about the shower, Elf. I was talkin' about what we did in the shower."

"Oh. Ja, ve could do that," I agreed.

So we did.

 

The rain cleared up on schedule, and the sun came out, drying off the roads by the time we had planned to leave. The motorcycle ride was uneventful. Maybe it only seemed to take a longer time than Logan had claimed because I wanted so much to see this museum.

Logan had parked the bike in the lot and we were headed to the entrance when he nudged me in the ribs.

"Now try to behave yourself this time and don't go porting around in here, okay? You might cause some damage with all this fragile glass stuff."

I gave him an indignant look. "I vould not break anything. I am not that clumsy."

"I know, but if you scared the other folks, that might cause a panic. It's going to be pretty crowded in here as it is and -"

"How do you know?" I interrupted.

"Just look at all these tour buses in the parking lot. That means lots of tourists, usually senior citizens, are inside the museum already. They'll all be from off Cape. We're not in P'town anymore, Toto. These folks may not be so used to mutants."

"Oh. Du hast recht. I vill be careful."

http://www.sandwichglassmuseum.org/

 

As is often the case, Logan was right. It was very crowded. For some strange reason though, everyone seemed very willing to leave plenty of room for the two of us to wander through the various display rooms, which was very courteous of them.

There was a glass-blowing demonstration already going on, so we decided to look through the other exhibits first, then come back later. A pair of animated exhibits set in two small darkened rooms side by side caught our attention. In each room, a character from the past told his or her story in a video, while tying their stories to a display of objects made at the glass factory.

As we walked out of the room, I told Logan, "That vas very sad, about how the lady lost her husband so young and then had to go on living vithout him for all that time. But it vas good that she knew how to navigate their ship back home herself. She must have been an extraordinary voman!"

"Yeah," was all Logan said in reply. 

We went into the adjoining room, where there was a wonderful exhibit of glass objects all set out on transparent shelves in front of a long window. Transfixed by the sight of sunlight streaming through all that colored glass, I sat down on a bench in order to admire it. Logan sank down next to me, but he seemed to be preoccupied, as if he were lost in thought somewhere, and those thoughts were not pleasant. I almost asked him what was wrong, but then it occurred to me that he might be comparing himself to that young captain's wife, doomed to live on for so very many years without the one she loved. 

I didn't ask if I was right or not. I just let him sit there in silence beside me for a while, until he brightened up a bit.

Further on, at the exhibit of modern glasswork, there was a beautiful large rainbow vase made of dichroic glass. I had never heard of that before, but it was quite striking. As you move around, the colors appear to change as the light reflects at different angles.

I stood there transfixed by the vase, until Logan asked, “What is it with you and colored glass, Elf? I mean, I get that it looks really pretty and all, but you seem almost hypnotized by the stuff.”

“I am not really sure. It just makes me feel good somehow. In Europe, I vas alvays fascinated by the old churches and cathedrals with their stained glass vindows. Vhenever the circus vas in a city that had such buildings, I vould go there if I could. Alvays I vas disguised as an ordinary person.”

“You can really get away with that?”

“Enough to fool the general public, yes. But I did get some very suspicious looks, especially vhen I vas all covered up by my clothing in the middle of the summer heat.”

“So why didn’t you just go out at night, and port into the buildings you wanted to see when they were empty?”

“Stained glass vindows do not look so beautiful from the inside at night.”

“If the church is lighted up inside, they show up pretty good from the outside.”

“It is not the same as sunlight coming in from outside, filling the relatively dark interior with the rich colors of the glass. Besides, I vished also to go to the services that vere held, since most of those churches were Catholic.”

“Guess I’ll have to take your word for it. Haven’t spent a lot of time in churches. At least not so far as I can remember.”

“I do not know how to explain it any further. I can almost feel the glory of those incredibly rich and radiant colors flowing into my soul and filling me with joy. Of course, it is not the same if it is just a fancy candlestick or an elaborate bowl catching the light from a vindow, but even that pale reflection makes me vant to smile.”

“Let’s go have a look at the glass blowing demo, huh? There should be another one starting up about now.”

There was, and it was most interesting. Of course, I have seen glass blowing before, but this was excellently done and explained. And instead of the usual little knickknacks, the lady made an old-fashioned vase. Then she spoke about pressed glass, which was quite popular in the 1800’s, and also cheaper to produce. There was a press in the demonstration area, and she asked for a volunteer from the crowd to help with the demo. Everyone in the audience was very shy, so I raised my hand. All I had to do was pull down a large lever so that the molten glass was pressed into a mold. I am pretty sure that I was the first volunteer to pull the lever with my tail. A few of the watchers giggled, and several applauded my efforts, which was very gratifying. The lady gave me one of the items that had been pressed earlier in the day and were now sufficiently cool to handle as a memento.

“Show off,” Logan muttered as I returned to my seat.

“I could not help it.” I held up the round green suncatcher with a traditional dolphin candlestick on it. "Look. This is just like the one I bought with the Pilgrim Monument on it. Now I have two of these to hang in my vindow!"

Our motorcycle ride back to the campground was uneventful.

 

We went to a restaurant called Bayside Betsy’s for dinner. It was right on the waterfront, so there was an excellent view of the harbor from our table.

 

http://baysidebetsys.com/events.html

 

There were many delicious-sounding items on the menu, but I don’t remember what I had. There was a very good reason for that, but I am a bit ashamed to tell you about it. You see, they were having a sale on flavored Margaritas, and I made the mistake of ordering one. It was so good that I ordered another. And that was even before our meal arrived.

“You sure you can handle that much liquor?” Logan asked.

“Of course. I am German. I grew up drinking beer.”

“This ain’t beer, Elf. It’s a lot stronger. Keep on like this and I’m gonna hafta carry you home.”

“I have not drunk any more than you have.”

“True. But your body doesn’t work the way mine does. Alcohol is essentially a kind of poison, so it tries to heal me. I can drink anyone under the table and barely even feel it.”

“I am not under the table,” I objected.

“Maybe not. But ya will be, before much longer.”

“Nein. I am fine.”

I drained the rest of my margarita and ordered another, as Logan shook his head in dismay, muttering something about the sweet flavor being deceiving and I should watch out.

 

Apparently, I did not watch out carefully enough, because I was already staggering as we left the restaurant.

“Logan, I do not think I can valk all the vay to the campground.”

“Sure ya can. It’s not that far.”

“No. I vill port us there.”

“Maybe you’d better not do –”

But he was too late. In an instant, we were somewhere else. But that somewhere else was not our home sweet home. Not only that, but a sudden attack of nausea overcame me as soon as we got there. I collapsed onto my knees in the sand and promptly started retching.

“Aw shit!” Logan exclaimed, putting an arm around my shoulders and holding me upright while I threw up my dinner.

When I had finished, I looked around woozily. We were just off the side of a road, with not much in sight except sand and bushes. I was still on my knees and my stomach was less than happy. 

I finally got up the strength to say, “Vhere are ve?”

“You kinda overshot the runway, Elf. I’d say this is Route 6, not far from Herring Cove Beach.”

I struggled to my feet, grabbing Logan’s arm for support. My head was spinning, which is not a sensation I am used to. “I vill try again –”

“No, ya won’t! In the state you’re in, you might land us inside a sand dune. We’ll just walk.”

I was still far from sober, but he was right. I just nodded.

He pulled my arm over his shoulder, and wrapped his arm around my waist. 

“C’mon. Let’s go.”

Much to his credit, he never said “I told you so.”

The further we went, the better I began to feel, but the alcohol was still affecting my brain. When we reached Bradford Street, I started singing all the verses I could remember of “What Shall We Do With a Drunken Sailor?”, including putting him in a longboat until he’s sober, putting him in the scuppers with a hosepipe on him, shaving his belly with a rusty razor, putting him in the bilge and making him drink it, and finally tying him to the taffrail when we’re yardarm under.

By the time I had finished several enthusiastic repetitions, we were home. Logan let us in and dropped me down into the chair near the door. I was just getting comfortable and about to doze off when he shook me, asking insistently, “Elf, what in blazes did that last verse mean? I could make some sense outta the rest of it, but that bit about the taffrail left me puzzled.”

So nothing would do but that I must wake up enough to answer him. After persuading my brain to concentrate on it, I could only come up with one answer. “I do not know. But it does not sound very good, does it?”

“Gahh!” he said in disgust.

“Now leave me alone and let me sleep.”

“Spoilsport!” he retorted. “And here I got you a lovely present and you don’t even want to know what it is.”

“Present?” I repeated blearily. “Vhat present?”

“Oh nothing you’d be interested in, I guess.” He turned away and started walking toward the bedroom door.

“Nein! Tell me!”

“Well, okay, if you insist. But I’m not going to let you play with it tonight. You’re too soused to be able to appreciate it fully.”

“I am not soused. Look here! I can even stand up.” And I could, although somewhat unsteadily.

“Hmph! I’ll bet you couldn’t even walk a straight line.”

“Hmph yourself! I could valk a straight line if I vere sound asleep.” I proceeded to demonstrate, and did a very good job at it.

“All right, you got me there. C’mon in here and I’ll show you the present.”

I followed him into the bedroom, sitting down on the bed.

"I know how much you like colored glass stuff, Elf, so I figured you’d like this.” He took a bag out of the closet and handed it to me. “I bought it at Shop Therapy the other day.” 

"Oh, you mean that store vith all the hippie clothing?"

"Yeah. The second floor is full of sex toys."

"I did not know there vas a second floor."

http://www.shoptherapy.com/

 

“There is. Not as classy as Toys of Eros though. Go on, open it.”

It was a standard butt plug in a medium size, but it was made of swirled blue and purple glass, light enough in color to be translucent.

“It is lovely! If only I vere not so exhausted --”

“You’re not exhausted, darlin’. You’re drunk.”

“Vell, maybe a bit tipsy. Those margarets vere much stronger than I expected.”

“Margaritas. And you didn’t have to have four of them, you know.”

“They tasted so good.”

“Famous last words, buddy.”

I gave him a lop-sided grin and nodded.

“Okay, okay, we’ll just go to sleep. But first I’ll show you one of the things I like to do with this kind of toy.”

“But you said we’d go to sleep,” I objected.

“And we will. Trust me. Come on, get ready for bed.”

I was pretty much beyond caring about whatever it was that he had in mind, but bed sounded good.

It only took a few minutes for me to get out of my clothes, wash up, and settle down under the quilt. Logan joined me as my eyelids were happily drooping closed. His arms wrapped around me and I curled up against his warmth, his hand stroking my neck.

“This is one of my favorite things, but I usually have to do it to myself. You just relax and keep your tail out of the way and I’ll show you.”

“I vant to sleep,” I objected again.

“And so you will. Do as you’re told.”

His hand moved down to my shoulders. 

“Umm. Nice,” I murmured.

By the time he reached my tail, I was halfway asleep. But I was fairly sure where he was going from there, so I resisted the temptation to drift off.

His fingers barely grazed that sensitive place just beneath my tail before traveling further down, still gently caressing and massaging my asshole. For a brief moment, the fingers disappeared, only to return slick and greasy with lube.

“Oh, ja,” I said sleepily, as he carefully pushed a finger into me.

“Now, now, darlin’, don’t get all excited. I’m just makin’ sure you’re ready for the butt plug. Nothing’s gonna happen until much later on tonight. We need our beauty sleep, remember?”

I could have made a sarcastic remark about that, but I was far too drowsy to bother. When the tip of the plug replaced his finger, I knew what he was going to do. I sighed and allowed myself to go limp. At room temperature, the glass felt cool and pleasant against me.

“That’s it. I’m just gonna put this plug in place, and then it’s off to beddy-bye for my favorite drunken sailor. Later on, I expect you’ll wakeup horny as a three-balled tomcat, from sleeping with this inside you. It works for me every time.”

“I have never seen a three-balled tomcat, mein Freund. Is such a thing possible?”

“Naw. Just an expression.” 

I knew he was right about the butt plug, since I am no stranger to sleeping with such a thing up mein arschloch, but I didn’t bother to tell him that. I just enjoyed the sensation of being stretched and then closing down on the stem again, once the plug is in place.

His lips brushed my forehead and he whispered, “Geh schlafen. Wake me up later, when you’re ready for some action.”

“Umm-hmm,” was about all I managed to say before relaxing against his chest and falling asleep.

 

The lighted alarm clock next to the bed showed 3:23 when I awoke again. It took only a few moments of awareness to realize why I was so aroused. But once I did, I deliberately intensified the sensation by rhythmically tensing and relaxing around the satisfying weight of the glass plug, making it shift slightly where it pressed against that sweet spot inside.

Logan was fast asleep on his back next to me. Instead of waking him directly, I slid one hand carefully underneath the quilt, not touching him until I knew I was in the area of his groin and then only very lightly, wanting to get my hand around the warm mass of his soft cock and balls. Even then, I just held him, exulting in the feel of the now-warm glass he had bought just to provoke this response in me. 

I don’t know how long I stayed there like that, feeling the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed and watching the dim silhouette of his face.

Finally, I could stand it no longer. Nuzzling the quilt down from his chest, I began licking the exposed nipple, first gently, then harder and more insistently, until I had drawn it entirely into my mouth and begun sucking hard, at the same time squeezing and massaging his captive sex until I could feel it hardening in my hand.

“So, Elf,” he said lazily, “I take it you’re awake now, huh?”

My only reply was to carefully touch the tips of my sharp teeth to his hard nipple.

“I’ll take that as a yes, darlin’. C’mere.” His arms wrapped around me, pulling me into a tight embrace then rolling me on top of him, he slid me up so that his mouth could clamp onto one of my nipples, while one hand slid over my ass, one finger touching that sensitive spot beneath my tail and the others pressing against the base of the butt plug, rocking it slightly back and forth.

Arching my chest against him, I threw back my head and gasped loudly, as I shot my load between our straining bodies.

He chuckled. “See? I told ya that would wake you up real willing and able, didn’t I? Didn’t even need to touch your cock to get you off.”

“Ja. But now it is your turn.” Still pressed together, I flipped my weight deftly sideways, pulling him far enough that he ended up lying mostly facedown and partly on top of me. “Hold still, or I vill port us both into the cold air outside, then leave you there and port back into this nice varm bed,” I said jokingly. “You vould not like that, vould you?”

“Aw right, Elf. You made your point.”

“Not yet I haven’t. But do not vorry, I vill.” So saying, I ran the tip of my tail down the length of his exposed back and into the crack of his ass, using the hard bony tip to press against his opening.

“Kurt, ya wouldn’t.”

”Ja, I vould. Vhere is our lube? Or vould you prefer to do vithout it?”

“I left it on the nightstand on my side. But –”

Before he could finish, I already held it in my hand, squeezing some out onto his ass and my tail. “You vere the one who said I should use my tail more, remember?”

“Yeah. But I didn’t mean –”

“Just hold still. I’ll only use the end, and I’ll be careful.”

My hand had once more gotten hold of his cock. As I felt him respond to my words and my tail, I began stroking it fast and hard.

“Oh, shit, Elf! O god! Ahh! Yeah! Faster!”

All this, of course, only made the feeling of the plug up my own butt even more intense. Between that and our frantic movements of our bodies, I came again when he did. But I still retained enough sense not to totally skewer him on my tail out of sheer enthusiasm.

“Jesus H. Christ, Elf, if I knew that butt plug was going to be that effective, I’d have bought ya one for every day of the week, each in a different color.”

“Nein. They are very expensive toys. I think I vill be very content vith just the one.”

“Good!”

We both laughed before we went into the bathroom and cleaned up.

 

GERMAN TRANSLATION

Alles für Deutschland Everything for Germany

Meine Ehre heißt Treue My honor is loyalty

Sprichst du Deutsch? Do you speak German?

ich weiß nicht I don’t know.

Entschuldigung Pardon me

Das weiß ich I know that.

Nein. Das ist alles. No. That’s all.

Gott sei dank! Thank God!

Ja, sicher, mein Piratenkapitän Yes, for sure, my pirate captain

Wunderbar! Wonderful! 

Aber natürlich But of course

Du hast recht. You’re right. 

mein arschloch my asshole

Geh schlafen. Go to sleep.

 

 

IN THE BEGINNING . . . Part 4

. . . AND, BEHOLD, IT WAS VERY GOOD

 

The rest of the night was entirely uneventful, as we slept right through it. The morning dawned bright and clear, with sunshine slanting across the bed. Even so, we didn’t wake up until quite late. 

"Now, let's get us some breakfast and decide what we want to do today," Logan announced, getting up and pulling aside one of the faded curtains covering the bedroom window. "Sun's shinin' already. How about a walk at Herring Cove?"

I pulled the covers up over my head and groaned. “I have a headache. Go away and leave me alone.”

“Serves ya right, you damn lush,” he replied heartlessly.

“Close the curtain, you damn sadist. The light hurts my eyes.”

He relented and drew the curtain back over the window. “Awright, awright. You stay there. I’ll get you some aspirin and a cup of coffee.”

It took a while, but I eventually pried myself out of bed. The headache was fading away, and the smell of fried bacon seemed almost tempting.

“About time, Elf,’’ he greeted me. “It’s almost noon. I can fry you a couple of eggs and heat up some of this bacon in the microwave, if you think you can handle it.”

“Just a piece of toast and some bacon vill be fine. And maybe a little more coffee.”

“Comin’ up.”

That went down well and I was starting to feel alive again.

“So how about that walk at Herring Cove?”

"The beach?"

"Yeah. Where you almost landed us last night."

"I have seen beaches before.”

"I'm sure ya have, but this one is special."

"Special how?"

"You'll see, Elf. You'll see. C’mon. Get dressed."

http://ptownchamber.com/on-the-water/beaches/

And see I did. We left the motorcycle in the parking lot and started out towards the water. Fortunately, I was feeling pretty much myself by then.

Logan pointed off to our right. “See that lighthouse way over there? That’s Race Point. The straight part of the beach is in that direction. The gay section is to our left.”

“It is segregated? I did not think that vas legal in this country.”

“Self-segregated would be a better description. Anyone is free to go anywhere along the beach, but the various groups tend to separate themselves out. You can’t hardly tell today, but come summer, the entire beach will be very crowded, especially at high tide, when there’s not so much beach above water as there is today.”

“So vhich vay shall ve go?”

“Left. It gets more interesting.”

We walked just above the waterline, following the edges of the breaking waves as they washed up onto the sand. On an impulse, I took off my shoes, pulled up my sweatpants, and tried wading, but the water was like ice and I danced quickly backwards, much to my companion's amusement.

"Verdammt, Logan! Is it alvays this cold?"

"Yeah, it is. Well, maybe not quite as cold as it is now, but it's never what anyone would call warm, not on this side of the Cape. This is the Atlantic ocean, Elf, not the Gulf Stream off the Florida Keys."

"Ja, so I have noticed. You could at least have varned me.”

He held up his hands in a warding-off gesture. “Hey, you didn’t ask.”

 

http://i1203.photobucket.com/albums/bb381/Karl-5/HerringCovemap_zpsa57de494.gif

 

The sand felt nice against the soles of my feet, so I ended up carrying my shoes for a while, until my feet had dried off.

“This first section of beach is where the lesbians mostly hang out. The gay men go a little further along. See where the dunes meet the beach up ahead, where there’s all those scrubby pine trees? That’s a very popular place for cruising. Ya know what cruising it, don’t you?”

“Ja. Cruising I know.”

“Some years back, the local authorities tried to stop the nudity and sex, but that didn’t work out too well, so they pretty much gave up, much to everyone’s relief, including the cops who had to try to enforce it. Further along, you can see the Wood End lighthouse. We’ll be coming to the nude part of the beach soon. I’ve always thought it a bit strange that you’d have to traipse all the way past the lesbian and gay section just in order to take your clothes off, but that’s how it works.”

“So, if it vere varm and sunny, I could take off my clothes and no one vould bother me?”

“Well, normally, yes. Being who and what you are, you’d probably get more than a few sidewise glances, though.”

“You mean, of course, due to my gorgeous body and my impressive manhood, nicht wahr?”

“Uh – well, in some cases, yes, I suppose so.”

“I vas only joking.”

“I wasn’t. You are gorgeous, in your own way.”

I wasn’t sure how to react to that, so I changed the subject. “Shall ve sit down for a vhile and look at the scenery?”

“Sure.”

For a time, we both sat staring at the waves, and the sparkles of sunshine on the water. I could not get rid of the thought of all those men in among the dunes, waiting for someone to come along who might want to have sex. Could it really be just that easy and uncomplicated? Sure, I had seen such places in the cities, in certain areas, but here it looked so open and natural. And possibly dangerous. Let us not forget about that aspect of such sex.

"Did you do that?" I finally blurted out, forgetting that Logan was not a telepath.

“Did I do what?”

“Cruising in the dunes, the way you said?”

"Uh - well, not very often."

"That means yes, sometimes, does it not?"

"Yeah. I guess it does. You gonna tell me you've never done that kind of thing?"

"No. I cannot tell you that vithout lying. But I am ashamed of it."

“I’m not. If two people, regardless of sex, are interested, why not?”

“Easy for you to say. You vill not catch any disease your body cannot heal, and you are not likely to be beaten up or murdered.”

“Well, neither are you, as far as that second problem is concerned. As for the first, that’s what condoms are for.”

It was quiet for a while, then Logan asked, "How about you? Have you had much experience with men before?" 

"Vhen I vas very young, I had far more experience vith many things than I ever vanted or needed."

"What do you mean?"

I shook my head, wanting only to dismiss the subject. "I do not even think about that, much less speak of it. Let us just say that I am not as innocent of such things as I perhaps should be. And you?"

"I already admitted to cruising.”

“Ja. But beyond that? Anything more significant than a quick blow job in the dunes?”

“Uh – yeah, some. Like I told you already, beyond a certain time, I have no clear memories of most of my past. But I get glimpses of things now and then, bits and pieces of what might or might not be memories. When I touch you, it seems strangely familiar, as if I've done this before. Remember I told you the other day that I'm fairly sure I've been a soldier for much of my life?"

"Ja."

"If I'm right about that, then I've probably spent a lot of time in the company of men. And where women are not much available, I know that men are likely to make do with each other. So it's possible that I'm -- I'm --"

He could not seem to say it, so I did. "Gay?"

"Yeah."

"And this disturbs you?"

"Sometimes."

"You loved Jean, so I vould assume you have been vith other vomen?"

"Oh yeah. Quite a few, over the years. You?"

"Perhaps not quite a few, but certainly some. Mostly long ago, but some more recently."

"Then maybe we swing both ways."

"And that is better than being gay?"

"No. I didn't mean it like that. I've known a lot of gay folks, both male and female. They're no better and no worse than anyone else. I'm just trying to find a word for what we are and what we're doing, that's all."

"The vord you are looking for is bisexual, or maybe pansexual, as some people are calling themselves these days.”

“Maybe. C’mon. Let’s walk on a little further.”

 

We walked along the sand in silence for a time. A seagull took flight as we approached, its harsh cry making it seem as if it were laughing at us. 

I took Logan's hand. His fingers tightened around mine. 

For a time, he was silent. Then, abruptly, he let go of my hand. Still staring straight ahead, he said, "Elf, I wasn't being entirely honest in what I just told you. I – I’ve had quite a bit of experience with men in more recent years. I spent a lot of time in Japan, training in martial arts. It was virtually an all-male culture, and I did get -- involved with some of the men. The master/student relationship could be really intense, if you know what I mean."

"Ja. And you are ashamed of this, or proud?"

"That's the problem: I'm not sure."

"But you have just said there is nothing wrong vith being gay, so vhy is this a problem?"

He still wouldn't look at me, but only stared steadfastly ahead. "I don't know how to explain. I just --" he faltered and seemed unable to go on.

"I vill guess. You have alvays thought of yourself, as they used to say, as a pitcher, not a catcher, nicht wahr?"

"Uh - yeah."

"But that vas not alvays so, in Japan?"

Silence. Then a quick nod.

"Mein Freund, you are not the first man to discover this about yourself, and you most certainly vill not be the last."

"I know. But it's hard for me to handle. I'm a man. I shouldn't enjoy --"

I almost felt like laughing, but I knew I must not do that. "You should not enjoy taking it up the ass," I finished for him.

He nodded again. As if he had to force out each word, he said, "I know that's dumb. But I'm so used to being -- " he shrugged his shoulders "-- well, what I am. And what I am --"

"-- is most certainly not a sissy boy," I finished for him.

"Yeah, you got it." 

"The men in Japan - tell me, vere any of them sissy boys?"

"Omigod, no! Anything but."

I said nothing for a time, letting him think about that as we walked.

"I have problems about sex betveen men, but they are not the same problem you have. Mine are mostly religious. All I can tell you is that a man is no more or less a man because of vhat he enjoys doing for sex.”

"I know what you're sayin', Kurt. And I know you're right. It's just that I can't always feel it's right. There's something inside me that says it's a weakness, something that makes me ashamed."

"Given who you are and vhat you are, I vould be surprised if you did not feel that vay at times. I expect it is harder for some men than it is for others to accept this.”

This whole conversation was just getting too intense. I decided to try to lighten it up a bit.

“Shall ve go into the dunes and see vhat ve can find? Perhaps there vill be some horny men out there.” I nudged him with my elbow.

“You ain't serious, are ya?"

I laughed. "Nein. I vas only pulling your leg."

"Well, cut it out already, or I'll be reaching over there and pulling your tail, bub," he threatened, clearly kidding.

Porting several meters away, I stuck out my tongue at him. “You vill have to catch me first, old man!”

He ran towards me. I ported again, further this time. He chased me. And so it went, until we were in among the low dunes, with their short, stunted scrub pines.

When I had finally lured Logan over to exactly where I wanted him, I ported back, landing right in front of him and taking him completely by surprise. I wrapped my arms around him, pushed him back against one of the more sturdy trees, hooked a leg around his thigh and pulled myself tight up against him, with our crotches locked together. Then I pressed my lips against his in a hard kiss, my tongue making its way into his mouth before he even realized what was happening.

As you may well imagine, he caught on quickly, sucking my tongue deep into his mouth and grinding his cock against mine through our clothing. Our tongues fought a heated battle, until I finally surrendered by letting him invade my mouth, hoping he wouldn’t encounter the sharp edges of my teeth and spoil the mood.

Meanwhile, he forced a hand between us and unfastened my belt and my jeans, pushing them down just far enough to get at my cock. In return, I jammed a hand down the back of his pants and grabbed his ass hard, feeling my nails draw blood as I moved lower.

Meanwhile, my tail, still half-trapped in my jeans and briefs, strove mightily to reach between my legs and his in order to rub against the bottom of his crotch through his jeans.

We squirmed and thrust and kissed ourselves to orgasm, excited by the idea that someone just might come along and see us going at it, even though that was extremely unlikely.

When we finally broke apart, Logan gave me a stinging slap across my half-bare ass, laughing as I yelped in surprise. “Serves you right, you damn slut, luring me into the dunes just so you could have your way with me like that. Never trust a guy with a tail.”

I started to smack him with the aforementioned tail, but he caught it in mid-air. Few people are fast enough to do that.

“Oh no, you don’t!” he said, still laughing. I couldn’t help it. I went into a laughing fit of my own, as we both straightened out our disheveled clothing.

 

It was a long walk back to the parking lot, but we spent most of it in silence, each of us thinking our own thoughts.

As I took my helmet off the seat, I couldn’t help but quip, “There. Now ve have done it in the dunes also, like those others you told me about.”

“Yep. Guess we did, didn’t we?”

Without so much as a glance around to see if there was anyone in sight, he put his hands on both sides of my head, pulled my mouth to his and kissed me soundly, his eyes open and staring into mine.

“Now get your ass onto the bike so we can go get something to eat.”

 

That was the extent of our adventures for the day, although we did walk into town and stroll around in some of the more out-of-the-way sections of town, away from the tourist area.

 

The next morning, we decided to go see the famous lighthouse in North Truro.

 

http://www.capecodlight.org/

 

It was only a short ride down Route 6 to the Highland Light. The parking lot was practically empty, with only one rather beat-up Volkswagen in close to the wooden walkway that circled around the buildings at the foot of the lighthouse itself.

As I got off the bike, I remarked to Logan, "As lighthouses go, this one is not very tall."

"Maybe so, but it's at the top of the highest cliff around here, which means it doesn't have to be tall in order to be visible from a long way. If I remember correctly, the light can be seen 23 miles out to sea."

What could I say to that? He clearly had a point.

"Uh-oh," he remarked as we approached the entrance to the building.

"Was ist los?"

"I don't think it's open. No lights on inside."

By then, I could read the sign on the door. "It is only open mid-May through mid-October. Scheisse! Ve are a veek too early!"

"Oh well, we can still look around. There's not much more we can see from the top of the lighthouse that we can't see from the overlook at the edge of the cliff. C'mon."

"Ja, but I vanted to go inside and see vhat it is like to climb up next to the light itself. I should have read the brochure more carefully."

We were almost around the back of the buildings when I heard a child's complaining voice.

"Aw, Ma, I thought you said we could go inside."

"I'm sorry, honey. We didn't know it was closed this time of year."

Logan nudged me with his elbow and said softly, "Looks as if you're not the only one who's disappointed, huh, Elf?"

Two women and a boy stood at the base of the lighthouse. The boy appeared about ten years of age. He wore braces on his legs and stood propped up by a forearm crutch, staring longingly up at the glass-enclosed top of the lighthouse.

"I could have climbed the stairway," he declared to his adult companions.

"Well now, Nicky, I'm not so sure about that," one of the women replied.

"I could have, Mom! I know I could have! I climbed the Monument, didn't I?"

"Yes, but that wasn't a narrow spiral stairway. Maybe it's just as well that it's closed."

By now we were close enough to hear his sigh of frustration and defeat.

I studied the lighthouse carefully. No, I couldn't see inside the room containing the light. That meant it would be too dangerous for me to - no, wait! There was another way.

I walked towards them, as Logan stared in surprise. Taking courage from the fact that they didn't react to my appearance, I said cheerfully, "I can get your son to the top, if you vill allow me to."

The shorter and more feminine-appearing woman narrowed her eyes at me, but the other just asked, "Oh yeah? How?"

"Easy. I am a teleporter. I have to be able to see vhere I plan to go in order to do it safely, but I can do that and also show you it's possible at the same time. Vatch."

I ported up to the top of the highest chimney on the building. From there, I could see the roof above the light, so I ported up to there. Leaning over the edge of the roof, I waved to the folks down below, then looked into the circular room that housed the light itself. There was enough open space for several people. Satisfied, I returned to the ground.

"See? Nothing to it. I can take you all up together, if you vish."

The rather butch-looking woman glanced at Logan, who by now was standing beside me.

"Did he just do what I think he did?" she asked doubtfully.

"You saw it, didn't you?"

"Yeah. But I still don't believe it."

"Believe it, darlin'. It's true." He stuck out his hand to her. "Name's Logan. This is Kurt."

She shook his outstretched hand. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Robin and this is Joyce. Our son here is called Nicky."

Nicky glanced back and forth between the two women. "Mom? Ma? What do you say? Can we do it? Please?"

Joyce took Logan's hand, holding it for just a second longer than she really needed to. She then touched my shoulder briefly. I noticed an oddly vacant look in her eyes as she did it.

Only then did she answer Nicky’s question. “Yes. That would be fine. Robin, do you want to go with us?”

“No thanks. Heights aren’t my thing. I get dizzy just climbing a ladder.”

“I’ve been up there before,” Logan offered. “I'll stay down here with Robin."

That left me with Nicky and Joyce. "I should varn you that some people do not like the sensation of teleporting. It can make them sick to their stomach."

They glanced at each other. “That’s okay. We’ll take our chances.”

“I have to touch you to do it.”

"That’s all right. Some of my Mom's friends are weirder than you are."

“Nicky, where are your manners?” Robin scolded.

“No problem. It is not news to me that I am rather strange-looking.”

I held out a hand to each of them and in an instant we were there. The view was truly spectacular, but Nicky was more interested in looking around inside.

“Aw, I was hoping it was a Fresnel lens, not just an ordinary old light.”

“There aren’t many of those lenses still in service,” Joyce told him.

Nicky made his way somewhat awkwardly around the light, what with his braces and his crutch, clearly determined to see as much of it as he could, while Joyce and I stared out at the scenery.

For lack of anything else to say, I asked, "Are you his mother?" 

"Yes and no. Robin is his birth mother.” Joyce gave me an appraising look. “Are you surprised? Most people are."

"No, not really. I just thought –"

“That because I looked more feminine, I was the one who had the baby?”

“Vell, yes. I am sorry. I should not have assumed –”

“That’s okay. You’re not the only one to ask that question. How about you? Is Logan your partner?" 

"Vell, ve are not sure about that just yet, but perhaps."

"Don't let him get away. He's a good man."

"How do you know?"

"I can tell these things. It’s just this feeling I get when I touch some people. Trust me."

“Are you an empath, or a telepath?”

She shrugged. “Not really. It’s just a feeling. Nothing I can pinpoint.”

By then, Nicky had come full circle. He took my hand without the least hesitation. “Can we go down now?”

Back on the ground, the boy stared up at me. "That was awesome! I hope I’m a mutant like you when I grow up."

"Uh -- vell, I doubt you vill be quite like me, since I've looked like this since I vas born. Everyone does not turn out to be a mutant. It is not possible to tell until it happens. And some mutants have a lot of problems. It is not alvays fun stuff that they can do.

"Sure looks fun to me."

"There is nothing wrong vith not being a mutant, you know."

"Well, I suppose --" But he didn't sound entirely convinced.

"In any case, most mutants first discover their ability or talent vhen they are in their teens, so you von't know for sure for a vhile yet."

"Why do you talk so funny?"

"Nicky," his Ma scolded. "Don't be impolite."

"It is all right. I vas born in Germany, so I have never learned to speak your language as vell as you have."

"Oh."

“There’s an observation deck over by the cliff,” Logan suggested. “Want to see it?”

“Sure!”

So we strolled down the walkway to the overlook. This particular part of the Cape faced directly out over the ocean to Europe, so we had a panoramic view of the waves breaking against the beach at the foot of the cliff down below us. As cliffs go, it was not exceptionally high, but for an area as flat as the Cape, this was quite a cliff.

Nicky, however, had other things in mind besides the view. "Are you a mutant also, Mr. Logan?"

Logan nodded.

"You don't look like one."

Without saying a word, Logan extended his claws on both hands.

Nicky’s eyes went wide. “Wow! Can I touch them, Mr. Logan?”

I was surprised when Logan held one hand down to the boy, with the sharp edges toward the ground, saying. “Yes, but be careful.”

Nicky ran a finger along the blunt edge of one of the blades, near Logan’s hand. As usual, there were a few streaks of blood on the sides of the blades. “Does that hurt?”

“Um-hmm. But I’m used to it.”

“I wish I could do that!”

Logan shook his head as he retracted his claws and placed a hand on Nicky’s shoulder. “No, you don’t, son. No, you don’t.”

For a moment, there was an uncomfortable silence. 

“I think it’s about time we got going,” Robin finally said.

We headed back to the parking lot. 

 

“Nicky, why don’t you thank Kurt for taking you into the lighthouse and let's say good-bye?"

"Thank you, Mr. -- uh?"

"Vagner. Kurt Vagner."

"Auf wiedersehen, Herr Wagner. Did I say it right?"

"Ja, you did. Auf wiedersehen, mein junger Freund." 

“Good-bye, Mr. Logan.”

“Bye, kid. You take good care of your mothers, now.”

Nicky stood up a little straighter and squared his shoulders. “I sure will, Mr. Logan.”

 

As we watched them get into their car and drive away, Logan had a sort of wistful expression on his face.

I pulled on my boots for the motorcycle ride and was settling the helmet on my head, when Logan asked, "How about a walk in the woods? It's early yet and I figure we could both use the exercise. There's a trail on our way back that's about a mile long."

"Sure."

"Okay, the Beech Forest Trail it is."

"A forest trail on a beach?"

"Beech trees, Elf. Beech trees."

"Oh."

http://www.hikingcapecod.com/beechforest.html

 

We left the bike in the parking lot and started walking. At first, the trail ran mostly along the sides of some ponds, and there were indeed many trees.

For a while, we walked in silence, listening to the sound of the wind in the branches overhead. Then Logan asked me a question, seemingly out of nowhere.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/highstrungloner/with/1134482141/#photo_1134482141

 

"What did you think of me when we first met in the Blackbird?"

"You mean at Bobby's house?"

"Yeah."

"Vell, at first you seemed rather rude." 

He gave a short laugh. "And you sounded like an arrogant braggart, boasting about the circus."

"Ja. I know." I looked down at the ground, embarrassed. 

"But after that, what did you think?"

"Um - you -- disturbed me."

"In what way?"

"For the first time in many years, I felt a strong attraction to a man. And I did not vant that to happen."

I was reluctant to go further with this, but I had to. "And it made me feel guilty."

"Guilty? For what?"

"The Bible says that it is an abomination if a man lies with another man as if he vere lying vith a voman."

"That's pretty silly. I couldn't lie with you the same way I'd lie with a woman even if I wanted to. You don't have the same kind of equipment a woman has. And anyway, there are a lot of ways to translate and interpret those passages, you know. They're far from carved in stone. Ever hear of the Queen James Bible?"

http://queenjamesbible.com/gay-bible/

 

"Uh - you mean the King James Bible?"

"No, I meant exactly what I said. Google it."

"I vill. But in any case, that is not how the Catholic Church interprets it."

"Well, maybe it should. Besides, we've been doing quite a bit of lying with each other already, if you want to apply it literally, as in lying beside each other and doing sexual stuff."

"Ja, but that is different from the one vay a man really could lie vith both a man and a voman."

"Ya mean anal sex, right?"

I nodded unhappily.

"Is that a problem, Elf?"

"Ja."

"So then what makes everything else we've done okay?"

"Because it - uh - it is not entirely easy to explain. A long time ago, I decided that masturbation is a sort of lesser of several evils, as far as sex goes. So at first, I could tell myself that vhat ve vere doing is only varying forms of mutual masturbation."

I held up my hand to forestall the objections I knew would be forthcoming.

"Yes, I know that's pretty specious reasoning, but tell me you have not done it yourself at times, especially if it involved something you really, really vanted. And even more especially, if it involves sex. I seem to recall one of your presidents who tried very hard to convince the public that a blowjob vas not sex."

The trail forked ahead of us. Logan pointed to the right hand branch, so we headed in that direction.

"I'm Canadian. Clinton wasn't my president." 

"Irrelevant to my argument. Show me a man who has not tried to come up vith a vay to convince himself that God vould not really mind vhat he vas doing and I vill show you a saint." I bowed my head sorrowfully. "I am not a saint."

"Very few of us are, Elf."

"I know. But that excuse is not holding up so vell anymore. I can see vhere ve are heading and know I should stop. But I do not vant to stop. I vant more."

"Um, yeah. I do see your point. Kinda. Essentially, your Church doesn’t approve of homosexuality. That would seem to be the basic problem, right?"

"Ja. Right."

"So are there any other things your Church teaches that you have problems believing?"

"Ja. There are," I admitted unhappily. 

"Such as?"

"The arbitrary definition that human life begins at conception, vhich leads to a ban on the most effective types of birth control, not to mention early abortion, in an age vhen ve are so grossly overpopulating the vorld."

"Anything else?"

"That vimmen may not be priests."

"Um-hm?"

"That there can be no divorce."

"Is that all?"

I shook my head. I did not want to have to admit this, but I did not wish to lie either. "Mutants," I said, not meeting his eyes.

"What about mutants?"

"Ve are taught that being a mutant is evil in and of itself, but God vill forgive us for vhat ve are, as long as ve do not use our mutant powers. But how can that make sense? I did not choose to be born a mutant. But if I am, and I can use my abilities to do good, how can that be evil?"

"And what exactly does the Church say about how a gay person who can't change, just as we mutants can’t? How can he possibly be a good person?"

By now, I could not even face him, but only stared straight ahead at the sandy path. "That it is wrong to desire someone of the same sex, but if you do, you must never act on that desire. If you vish to have sex, you must only do it if you marry someone of the opposite sex, and then only have sex vith that partner. If you cannot do that, you must remain celibate."

"Sounds familiar, doesn't it?"

"Vhat do you mean?"

"That's essentially the same thing as the teaching about mutants not using their abilities."

That really caught my attention. "Ja! Vhy did I not notice that myself?"

"You've admitted you doubt the advice given to mutants, right?"

"Ja. So?"

"So you've already chosen to disobey as far as not using your mutant abilities goes. Why not also doubt the wisdom of the advice to gay folks?"

I was speechless. 

He finally asked, "Elf? Ya okay? It's not like you to be quiet this long."

I just shook my head. "I-- I cannot -- I mean, that seems too easy. Mein lieber Gott im Himmel, I do not vish to sin, but I also cannot deny vhat I am!"

"Look, Kurt, maybe I shouldn't have said all those things. I wasn't trying to upset you or anything, just tryin' to make things clear."

Light dawned on me. "You knew all that stuff about the Church and mutants, nicht wahr?" I accused him.

"Yeah."

"You deliberately -"

"Yeah, I led you on. Why not? Something wrong with showing you the holes in your own logic?"

I wanted to be angry, but I couldn't. He was right. Now what?

"Ya mad at me?"

I shook my head again.

"Say somethin'."

"I do not know vhat to say. I vill have to think about this. I have enough problems vith God already. I am not sure I need more."

"With God, darlin'? Or with the Church?"

"It is the same thing."

"Is it? Really?"

I did not know what to say to that either. Fortunately, we had just arrived at the bottom of a sort of a stairway composed of logs that went up a long sloping hill, so we concentrated on making the climb instead of talking.

Somewhere inside, I had to agree with Logan. But I was not yet ready to admit it, even to myself.

 

From the top of the stairway, we could see a huge sand dune that seemed to have spilled over into the forest, since there were trees in various stages of being buried by the sand. It was quite a dramatic sight, and I stopped in my tracks for a minute.

Seeing my interest, Logan told me about how the early settlers had cut down so much of the forest, which left the dunes no longer anchored in place by their vegetation. Over time, dunes move forward as the winds push them along. This particular dune had already reached the edge of the forest and was in the process of slowly drowning it in sand, killing everything that was growing in its path.

I remember feeling an unaccountably sharp sense of sorrow for the trees, being overwhelmed and destroyed because of things that had been done so many years ago.

For the rest of the way around the trail, we didn’t say very much. Now and then, Logan gave me other similar tidbits of information, but I was clearly distracted and lost in my own thoughts. Although I tried not to show it, our talk about religion was troubling me. The still small voice inside my head that I was accustomed to calling my conscience was engaged in a vicious argument with another voice that seemed to be expressing the wishes of my heart. I could not seem to force them into any kind of agreement.

 

Later on, back at the campground, I sat outside wondering how I could find a solution.

Logan came out and sat next to me, placing an arm around my shoulders.

I closed my eyes and must have made a grimace of distaste as he did so, since he withdrew his arm.

“You’re not really in the mood for sex, are you?”

I shook my head.

“I am confused.”

“You’re not confused, Elf. You’re conflicted.”

“Vas?”

“You’re fighting yourself. You want sex, but your conscience is sayin’ it’s wrong. But still you want me. The rationalizations we talked about are wearing thin, but the reasons your conscience gives you aren’t making it anymore. I can’t give you a way out and I can’t give you the answers you’re looking for. I have my own answers, but they don’t include a God.”

“So you have no problem vith vhat ve have been doing?”

“No moral problems about it, no. As long as the other person consents, there’s nothing wrong with anything two people choose to do to each other to find pleasure.”

“And you have never felt guilty?”

“I’ve felt guilty about a lot of things in my life, but sex isn’t one of them. Uncomfortable about some aspects of it maybe, like we talked about before, but not guilty of any wrong-doing.”

I just sat there, staring at the darkness that was rapidly settling around us.

“Come on inside, Elf. No sex, I promise. Maybe just a back rub?”

I heaved a sigh. It wasn’t what I wanted, and yet it was. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

 

It felt so good to just lie there with his hands working on the tense muscles of my back. I hadn’t quite realized until then just how uptight I was over all this. I didn’t want it to be this way. I wanted to be able to enjoy what we did together without that nagging sense of guilt. Yes, I had strayed in the past now and then, but that had been casual sex, usually in a weak moment. This was something more. If nothing else, it was certainly premeditated. I wanted it to be all right. More, I wanted it to be wonderful, even sacred and holy! 

“Turn over. I’ll do the front.”

“Logan –”

“No sex. Just massaging, so you can relax a bit. Trust me.”

“How can I trust you vhen your cock is already hard?”

“Let me worry about that. I just want you to feel good, okay?”

And I did. He carefully avoided any sensitive areas, maintaining the distance and care of a professional masseur.

“There. Is that any better?”

“Ja. I do not feel vound up so tightly as before.”

Lying beside me, he idly traced a finger along the ridge of one of the many scars on my chest. “Ya know, now that I’ve gotten used to it, this is kinda nice. Sort of like a fancy tattoo.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Yeah.”

Being reminded about what I had done to my body sent my mind off in another direction. Terror. Fire. Death.

“Vhy do they hate us so?”

“Who, darlin’?”

“The regular people. You know, the normal humans?”

“You want the easy answer or the hard one?”

“Both.”

“Easy one first: because we’re different and anything that’s seen as different is automatically feared and hated.”

“And the hard answer?”

“Because we truly are a threat to them and they know it.”

“But ve are not! Ve do our best to protect and help them vhen ve can.”

“Some of us do. Some of us don’t. Let’s face it, pal: most of the time the X-Men are defending regular folks against other mutants. But even beyond that, we simply are dangerous. Some of our abilities make us more powerful than ordinary humans, like me and my claws. Some abilities are more neutral, and could as easily be used for good as for evil. And some mutations are just plain strange, and are not even good for those who have them. But all of us threaten the previously normal way of life. Best case, most optimistic scenario, all of us use our powers for the good of others. Even then, we outclass the natural abilities of ordinary folks. On some level, they know they will someday be second class citizens, in one way or another. And they react to that knowledge. Overall, we can do a wide range of things that they cannot. Period. Against that kind of competition, how can they hope to compete? So we are a threat, however much we may not want to be and however much we may try to help them. They don’t want to need help. They don’t want to think they can’t make it on their own.”

“So vhat can ve do?”

“If I knew that, I’d tell you. C’mon. Let’s go to sleep.”

 

The next day was Saturday. We planned to leave on Monday, so our vacation was nearing its end. Only a couple more days. I tried to be cheerful, but the thought of leaving here depressed me. I had settled nothing by getting to know Logan better. In fact, I only desired him all the more. If only we could just stay here, where we would be accepted by those around us.

And if only I could get my conscience to agree with my heart.

 

I wanted to buy some T-shirts, so we headed for town on foot. The day was bright and sunny, which only cast more darkness into my soul by contrast. Rain would have suited my mood much better. Knowing how soon we would be leaving made me look even more intently at the scenery and the quaint, crowded streets, as if I could impress them on my mind and in my memory by doing so.

After I had finished my shopping, we headed for the library, so Logan could check his email once again. I suppose you may be wondering why he couldn’t just do that on his cell phone, so I should remind you that this was quite a few years ago, when cell phones were only portable telephones, not the tiny computers that they are now.

I walked around aimlessly looking at books, while Logan used one of the library computers. I considered taking another look at the Rose Dorothea upstairs, but couldn’t get up the interest. My rationalizations just weren’t working anymore, and guilt is not a very pleasant thing to feel. Maybe this whole thing with Logan was just one colossal mistake, and I was only fooling myself that it was anything else.

I was so deep in thought that I didn’t hear Logan as he walked up behind me. When he tapped me on the shoulder, I jumped. 

"Kurt, I think you may want to look at something I found online."

"Vhat is it?"

"I can't explain it. Just come take a look."

I must admit that I thought it would be a porn site and was a bit annoyed that he would bother me for something like that. Imagine my surprise when I saw the homepage for something that called itself the North American Old Catholic Church. I gave Logan a skeptical sideways glance. "Vhat is this? I have never heard of an Old Catholic Church."

http://www.naoldcatholic.com/lgbt-inclusion/

 

"Go to their ‘Statements of Faith and Belief’ page."

I did as he asked, still wondering what this was all about.

"Now click on ‘Diversity’."

I did. There were only two short paragraphs, but they were more than enough to catch my interest.  
We consider gender diversity to be a blessed part of life and promote the full inclusion of LGBT persons in our religious life, sacraments, and clergy. Similarly, we advocate for the full inclusion of LGBT persons throughout society.  
We also consider mutation to be a blessed part of life and extend the same principles to mutants. Just like all talents and abilities, their powers are a gift from God, and, like all gifts, can be used for either good or evil.

"Unmöglich!" I exclaimed softly. "Who are these people?"

"Keep reading. It won't take very long. I’m going to the bathroom.”

So I sat down and started going through the website. I knew it couldn't be the Catholic Church I was accustomed to, but what could it be? Some schismatic spin-off from the real Church, maybe? Every one of their doctrines was as wonderful as that first one. And yet they were not denying anything except the authority of the Pope. I read the brief history and info provided. Clearly, they were not a very large group, but they held beliefs that I had long held myself, deep in my heart. If only I could meet these people and talk to them. Or more, believe that they are correct!

By this time, Logan had returned and bent over next to me. He saw the look on my face, glanced at the monitor, then tapped the button that said "Locations". Scrolling down to an address in P'town, he said, "Maybe this is where you'd like to go this Sunday for Mass?”

"Perhaps," I said dubiously.

"You don’t have to decide now. Here, let's print all this out and get going. Our time's almost up anyway."

 

I walked back to Coastal Acres in a sort of spiritual daze, seeing nothing but the words I had read about diversity. It was a very simple statement, but it meant so much to me. 

Even after we had gotten back, I was still turning all of this around in my mind, reading over and over the information about this strange church and examining it every which way. It was not the Roman Catholic Church I knew and had accepted as my own. But the doubts and questions that had assailed me lately had driven a wedge between my inner being and that Church that had accepted me grudgingly, if at all. I remembered Father Bauer, the priest I knew a long time ago. If only he were still alive so I could talk to him about this! In all the years since then, he has been the only priest who has truly accepted me for what I am.

I finally decided I had done enough thinking for now. It was time to carry out the promise I had made to Logan several days ago. 

“Since ve have nothing much to do this afternoon, I vill make a special dinner for us tonight,” I announced.

“What’s it gonna be?”

“It vill be a surprise.”

“OK. So do you want me to take you to the grocery store?”

”Nein. I vill teleport. I know vhere it is, so I am sure I can get there and back.”

”Well, if you’re sure ---”

“I am. Go take a nap, or walk around, or sit out in the sun or something. I vill be back soon.”

I was as good as my word, returning in less than an hour with the ingredients for a traditional German meal. Or at least as close as I could get, considering that not only was P’town not Germany, but it was also not a large cosmopolitan city where many kinds of food were readily available. I did the best I could with what I had, but I could not find any real German beer that I knew was of good quality and I had to make several substitutions in my menu.

After unpacking the groceries and doing as much as I could of the food preparation, I went outside to find Logan, who had last been seen lounging in a lawnchair and reading yet another issue of “Men’s Journal”.

“Here is the best I could do as far as German beer is concerned,” I said regretfully, offering him a can, and then settling down beside him to drink my own. “The closest I could get was St. Pauli Girl, but although it is brewed in Germany, it is not sold there, since it is not very good.”

“Tastes fine to me, Elf.”

“All beer tastes fine to you.”

“Well, yeah, I guess it does.” He shrugged. “I still can’t believe the X-Men haven’t needed me for all this time. No phone calls. No emergencies. No monsters or evil mutants. No nothing. I’m starting to worry that something awful has happened and we just don’t know about it.”

“Vell, you could alvays phone the School, if it is really bothering you. If they need you, I could teleport us both back there very quickly. Although I do not really vant to do that,” I added quickly.

“Nah. They have my number. The world should be able to survive without my help for at least a week,” he said sardonically. “It’s sure nice to be able to just relax for a change. I should do this more often.”

I said nothing as I finished my beer, then went inside to check on the food.

 

“All right, here is my version of Wiener Schnitzel,” I said proudly, as I set a plate full of food in front of Logan, then sat down with my own.

For a few minutes, we ate in silence. I watched him tasting each mouthful, more concerned about whether he would like it than I was with what I was eating. Finally, I could stand the silence no longer. I had to know.

"So vhat do you think?"

“This tastes familiar, as if I’ve had it before.”

“Maybe vhen you vere in Germany?”

“Nah. More like down in the Southern states. Southern fried pork chops, but with lemon juice."

"Vell, that is pretty much vhat it is. But the type of meat can vary, as can the sauce that is used, or not used, in many cases. Pork, and especially veal, are more traditional in Germany." 

"How about chicken?"

"I have occasionally seen it made vith chicken, turkey, or beef, but that's not the usual."

"Too bad. I'm real fond of Kentucky Fried Chicken."

"The chickens are from Kentucky?"

"No. Or at least not very often. And I've had sauerkraut before, but only on hot dogs, not by itself. The potato salad isn’t much different from what I’m used to. I’m still trying to decide how I like the pork cutlet. How about another helping, so I can make up my mind?”

“Does that mean you like it?”

“If I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t be eating it, would I?”

“Maybe you are just being polite.”

“Nah. I ain’t that polite. Now stop lookin’ so concerned. It’s good. Really. How about some more of that potato salad, while you’re at it?”

However, when I brought out the apple pie and heated it up in the microwave, Logan gave me a very strange look.

"Elf, ya ain't gonna tell me apple pie is a German tradition, are ya?"

"Nein. But it vas the closest thing I could find to apple strudel. I am not much of a baker," I admitted.

“Guess that’ll just have to do, huh?” He grinned, so I knew he was kidding me. When I brought out the vanilla ice cream to put on top of the pie, he grinned even wider. “That’s not a German tradition, is it?”

“Not really. I just figured you’d like it.”

 

After dinner, I got my rosary and went outside, as I do so often when I am troubled, seeking the peace of the outdoors and the feel of the beads slipping through my fingers as the old familiar prayers run through my mind. With every prayer, I begged for guidance and the answer to the question that was disturbing me. I did not know if I would get an answer, but I had to try. I was still there as the sun slipped down in the west and the sky turned a golden red. All I could think of was the fires of hell, even though I do not truly believe in such a literal description of the place.

Part of me felt a ray of hope, because of that website. But another part argued that I was only being tempted into sin. After all, just because I wanted to believe they were right, that doesn’t make it true. Maybe I should go to their Mass and find out more? Or maybe not. What would Jesus do? What did God want me to do? Did God even care? For all those years, I had held onto my faith in a Church that, truth be told, had no place for me. Now I had seen an alternative, but did I dare believe in it?

Just about then, Logan came out of the motor home and sat down on the ground not far from me.

"Don't let me disturb you, darlin'. I'm just out here to smoke a cigar and watch the sunset.”

At first, I managed to ignore him, but after he lit his cigar, an occasional tendril of smoke would drift my way, reminding me of his presence. Logan always smokes outside, for the sake of others who might be harmed by the smoke. Usually, it doesn’t bother me, but tonight I was on edge and touchy, feeling as if he was staring at me.

After a while, he got up and went inside, much to my relief. 

Darkness fell, as it usually does. Still undecided and unsatisfied, I gave up and went inside also.

There were no lights on in the main room, and only a dim light from the bedroom. I walked through to the other room, saying, “Logan? Vhere are you?”

And I stopped dead in the doorway.

He was lying on the bed, stark naked, his hands behind his head. He fixed me with an intense stare.

"Fuck me, Elf."

"Vas?"

"You heard me.” 

I hesitated, not sure how to react. "Vhy are you doing this?"

"Maybe because I want to show you in no uncertain terms that a man can't really 'lie with a man as he would lie with a woman'?" he suggested.

“Nein. There is more to it than that.”

“Kurt, hasn’t anyone ever told you there’s a time to talk and a time to shut the fuck up and just take what’s being offered to you? I want you. Fuck me. It’s as simple as that.”

But it wasn’t that simple at all, not to me. And not to him either. I could see it in his eyes, and in the expression on his face. He would have been much more comfortable fucking me. So why was he making this offer of himself instead?

Or perhaps that is exactly why. Perhaps this is his conflict and he wants to overcome it. Certainly, I could not hurt his body, but what about his self image? For someone like Logan to invite me to do this, he would be taking a big risk, if he is not settled in his mind about such issues as submission and dominance, active or passive, feminine or masculine. Perhaps he is fighting his own battle somewhere inside his head, a battle that he would not, or could not, easily put into words, beyond what he has already told me.

Could I hurt him in some way by doing this? Yes, I decided, I could. But if I refused? Would I not hurt him even more?

Seeing me dithering, he rolled over onto his hands and knees, his naked ass in the air.

“Maybe you need to hear it in German,” he said, when I just stood there staring. “Ich will dich. Fick mich."

Even now, it is hard for me to explain how those words affected me. The sight of his ass being offered like that triggered something deep inside me. The heavy, sharply-defined muscles of his thighs, the thick curled hair on his back, thinning out but never entirely disappearing over his buttocks. The sheer power of the man, the ferocity I had seen in the way he fought his enemies, the tough guy exterior that was all too real but could never entirely define the complexity of his innermost being. All that, and more, was being quite literally handed to me for the taking. He had not said, “I love you.” He had only said, “I want you.”

And me? I had too often in the past been wanted and desired by men – but only as the one to be taken and used, not the one to do the taking. Logan must know what it means for him to yield the power to me. He had the sort of raw strength and courage that would never be mine, or at least not to the same extent, for I am no weakling. He was pure danger, distilled power, all in an indestructible body, that he used as a weapon on a regular basis. How much more macho could a man be?

And I wanted with all my heart and soul to plunge my cock into his body, in a gesture of possession that was pure animal lust. I wanted to fuck him hard and pump my cum into that offered ass as a sign that I had claimed him, that he himself was mine, just as his body was mine, to take and use and fill. To possess his love and all his desire, to hold and make it mine. If it had been possible to make a child upon him, I would have wanted that too.

All that, and more. I would have impaled his very soul, if such a thing were possible. There was nothing rational about any of this. Nor was there anything rational about the way I tore into him, barely managing to slather some lube over my inflamed cock before I entered him, pounding him so hard I nearly drove his head into the headboard before he regained his wits enough to brace himself against my onslaught.

It was as if something I had held captive inside myself for a long time had finally had the chance to break free. I was only vaguely aware that I was growling German curses at him, calling him the foulest names I could think of, while I simultaneously declared that he was mine, now and forever, that I had captured him and claimed him, and would never let him go, because I wanted him, because I needed him, and because I loved him beyond all others.

And throughout all this, he remained stolidly in place, allowing – no, welcoming the way I used myself as a battering ram to drive my cock up his ass as far and as hard as I could.

By the time I finally came, I was still raving incoherently in German. (Thank God it wasn’t English! Surely, he couldn’t follow most of what I was saying.)  
Even as my cock lost some of its hard urgency, I felt him convulse around me. He groaned deeply as he released his load onto the bed in quivering spasms.  
My fingernails had torn red gouges along his sides and hips, where I had been holding onto him during my frenzy.

Gasping desperately for air, I pulled abruptly away, sanity creeping back in from the edges of my mind.

“Du lieber Gott, was hab’ ich getan?!” I croaked from my bone-dry throat.

I tried to get up, intending only to flee from the room, before he could turn on me and slice me to ribbons, but he was too fast.

Before it even occurred to me to teleport, Logan had me in his arms, dragging me down onto the bed, holding my shaking body close against him.

“Easy, Elf. Easy. Stand down. You did nothing to me except what I wanted you to do. I loved it.”

“But the things I said –”

“I caught some of it, and can take a good guess at the rest.” He chuckled. “I love it when you talk dirty to me, darlin’.”

“You’re not –”

“Angry? Hurt? Damaged? Shit, no! You’re welcome to impale me on that sword of yours anytime you want to.”

By then I had started to pull myself together. 

He grinned down at me. “Now tell me, in your wildest dreams, would you ever lie with a woman the way you just laid with me?”

“Merciful God, no!”

“Then I rest my case.”

“Logan, you know perfectly vell that does not prove anything.”

“Yeah, I know. I just wanted you to look at it from a different angle, that’s all. Now calm down. Your eyes are so bright I’m afraid they’re going to burn right through your head, and I sure wouldn’t like to see that happen.”

His fingers stroked my hair and the back of my head, while the palm of his other hand pressed into the small of my back, just above my tail, holding me firmly against his hard body.

I felt somehow strangely safe in his arms like that. And I felt as if I were somehow safely home at last.

 

 

The next morning was Sunday. Sometime during the night, I had realized what I had to do. I got up early, careful not to wake Logan. He might have offered to go to the Old Catholic Mass with me, but I didn’t want that. I felt I had to do this alone.

Carrying my clothes into the other room, I got dressed and snuck quietly out the door, leaving a note on the table telling Logan where I had gone. Considering his incredibly sharp hearing, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he really had heard me leave and simply pretended to be asleep, realizing I would have wakened him if I had wanted his company. I had put the address for the Mass in my pocket along with a map of the town, but I was pretty sure I knew the way, since it wasn’t very far from the campground.

As I had expected, it was a private home, not a church building. I was pretty sure this was a small group, just getting started.

Once again, I will not bore you by giving all the details of the service at length. Suffice it to say that it was very close to the usual Roman Catholic Mass, but the priest was a woman, who looked very much as if she had been born a man. Only ten people were there, but what they lacked in numbers they made up for with enthusiasm. This time, with these people, I felt that I should take Communion when it was offered.

Afterwards, there was coffee and doughnuts. I asked many questions and received many answers.

I was still mulling it over when I got back to Coastal Acres. Logan’s first question as soon as I walked in the door was quite predictable.

“So what did you think of it?”

I sat down in the chair next to the door. “I am – not sure. They believe in much the same things as I do, but I knew that from their website.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“Can it really be that easy? After all the years that I have been a Catholic, I’ve fought to convince myself that the Church is right in all things, being founded by Jesus and inspired by the Holy Spirit to alvays know the truth. And yet, there vere still things I could not in good conscience accept. And now something comes along vhich does not require me to do that.”

“And this is a problem?” he asked, a confused expression on his face.

“Vhat if it is a test of my faith in the True Church?”

“What if it’s a test of your faith in the Truth?”

I nodded. “Exactly. How can I be sure?”

“Elf, we can never be sure about such things. We stumble around in the darkness, and sometimes we run across something that seems to shed some small amount of light into our lives. But that light looks different to everyone who sees it, and we can’t know who sees it clearly and who doesn’t. Some of us never see it at all.” He shook his head and shrugged helplessly. “What can I say? If it looks to you like the light, then all you can do is follow it and see where it leads you.”

“I see two lights, mein Freund, and they show me two different paths.”

“Then follow the one that shines the brightest.”

“I’ve got to think about all this.”

“Well, how would you like a chance to think about it while you’re sitting in the best room in town?”

“Vhat do you mean?”

“I made all the arrangements while you were out. We were lucky. The Land's End Inn had a guest who decided to leave a day earlier than planned, so the room is empty tonight. They call it the Bay Tower Room. It has a view like you wouldn’t believe. Check in time is 3 PM." 

I will never forget the absolutely smug, self-satisfied look on his face as he told me that.

“But – but the price must be –-” 

“Don’t worry about it. That’s already taken care of.”

I opened my mouth to object, but he stopped me by leaning over and kissing me soundly.

“Not another word about it, Elf, or I’ll tie a knot in your tail.”

“I vould like to see you try!” I retorted.

“Yeah, yeah. Now get your lazy ass out of that chair and help me clean up this place so we can leave it the same way we found it.”

 

We spent the rest of the time packing everything up and cleaning the motor home thoroughly.

“How about we eat up the rest of the food?” Logan suggested. “There isn’t much left.”

“Let’s just eat what we can for lunch, and toss out the rest. Tonight I vill take you out to dinner at the restaurant of your choice,” I announced.

“You don’t haveta do that.”

“I know. But I vant to. Vhere shall ve eat?”

“The Red Inn. It’s one of the best restaurants in town. A very classy place, so don’t pack away your best clothes.”

“Our best clothes are not very impressive. Are you sure they vill even let us in?”

“There’s no dress code in P’town. As long as you’re wearing shoes and a shirt, you’re okay.”

 

Logan was in the process of shutting off the gas and the water, while I carried the trash to a nearby dumpster when I realized something.

“Ve have not yet gotten cleaned up ourselves. I need a shower.”

“You’ll do for now,” he replied, sniffing in my direction. “Don’t worry, you don’t smell.”

“But I – ”

“There’s a really nice bathtub waiting for you in our room, darlin’. Wouldn’t you rather get cleaned up there? I know I sure would. C’mon, let’s load our stuff onto the bike. It’s almost three o’clock.”

“Vell, if you’re sure.”

“I am.”

http://www.landsendinn.com/

http://www.easyviewmedia.com/Lands-End-Inn/3.html  
{Virtual Tour of the room they’re in.}

 

Land’s End Inn is on top of one of the higher hills in the town. I had to remember to keep my mouth from gaping open at the lovely gardens and the fantastic view. By the time we climbed the stairs to the room, I thought I was beyond surprise, but I wasn’t.

I walked through the door and just stood still. “Mein Gott, this is spectacular! It is all vindows!”

“Yep. It’s basically a hexagon, so we can see just about all the way around. Gotta be the best room in town, not to mention the most luxurious. The bed is almost as big as the place we were stayin’.”

“Is that a hint?”

“Nah. Save that for tonight. For now let’s sit out on the balcony for a while and enjoy the view.”

“Vhich balcony? There are two of them.”

“Depends what you want to look at: the town or the end of the Cape.”

“Let’s try one side first and then the other.”

“You got it, Elf.”

We sat outside for the next couple of hours, watching the boats come and go. I spotted the Bay Lady coming in from the afternoon cruise and watched as they lowered the sails. As the sun started to sink towards the water, a small thunderstorm passed by far in the distance, adding a bit of drama to the seascape.

Early on, Logan fell asleep in a lounge chair, so I had a lot of time to think over what I had seen this morning at Mass. When it came right down to it, I stopped thinking and just decided to do what my heart told me to do when the time came.

Leaving him still napping, I went inside to enjoy the lovely bathtub. In addition to the little bottles of shampoo and conditioner, there was also one of bubble bath powder. I emptied it into the hot water running from the faucet, then settled in for a long soak, watching the bubbles rise around me. 

I was lying on my back, head propped against the foot of the tub, with the rest of me concealed beneath drifts of bubbles, when Logan came into the bathroom.

“Figured I’d find you in here, Elf” he said, as he emptied his bladder into the toilet. "Ya look like a blueberry sundae. The ice cream is hidden under the whipped cream, and your head is the blueberry." He studied me, frowning slightly. "Needs more blueberries though."

I bent my legs so that my knees showed above the bubbles, next to each other in the center of the tub, then I poked the end of my tail through the bubbles next to them. "How is that?" 

He studied me again. "Better, but I'd like it if they weren't all so close together."

"You mean like this?" Obligingly, I spread my legs apart and moved my tail down closer to my feet. 

"Oh yeah. Much better. Good enough to eat, in fact."

Kneeling beside the tub, he reached down with one hand beneath the bubbles and began caressing my stomach. "Umm. Yummy. Now what else have we got underneath all this whipped cream?" 

As his hand traced its way to my groin, I came close to melting down into the water. When he took my cock and balls into the palm of his hand, squeezing gently and rhythmically, I had to remind myself not to just sink down beneath the bubbles. Fingertips played lightly over the area behind my balls, reaching for and then touching the puckered skin around my anus. Still holding my sex in his palm, he teased my hole, stroking and probing until he had gotten me to open enough to accept his finger.

"Ya like that?"

"Umm," was about all I was capable of saying.

Another finger joined the first, touching me where I had not been touched for more years than I cared to remember. As another finger went in, my body responded automatically, relaxing the ring of muscle around my opening. He spread his fingers apart a bit, as if testing to see how far and how easily I could be stretched. 

I closed my eyes, totally blissed out and enjoying the sensations, which seemed magnified by the sensual touch of the warm water all over my body. "O Gott, I have died and gone to heaven."

"Naw, not just yet, Elf. And hopefully not real soon." He leaned down and kissed me. "Now, how about getting out of there, so we can have the main course in a more comfortable place?"

I sighed. "All right. But you must take a shower first, if you expect to sit at my table."

"Are you insinuatin' that I'm not clean enough for ya? You never said that when we were at the campground." But he was joking. I could tell by the sound of his voice.

"This is different. This time, there is no excuse," I pointed out primly, opening the stopper of the tub and letting my lovely bubbles begin to drain out. I stood up.

Logan laughed. "Now ya look like somethin' out of a strip show, darlin', with all the bubbles in strategic places. Well, maybe not all of them."

I had to admit that I did present rather a strange sight, with patches of bright white bubbles clinging to me in various places on my dark blue body as I stood there.

"Hmph," I replied in mock indignation, pulling the shower curtain across the tub and turning on the shower in order to rinse off.

I had hardly gotten started when Logan stepped into the shower along with me. "Move over, bub. It's my turn."

"Vell then, I must make sure that you do a good job of it." I scooped up a handful of the remaining bubbles that were still in the process of being washed down the drain and began spreading them over his body, starting with a handful in his hair. Of course, he protested loudly over this indignity but that did not stop me from pouring some shampoo on his head also and washing his hair, then lovingly covering the rest of his body, especially the most interesting parts, with shower gel, before I stepped out of the tub and gave him space to stand under the shower and rinse off.

By the time he got out of the bathroom, I had already gotten dressed for dinner.

He looked slightly disappointed to see me with my clothes on, but must have decided he too was ready for dinner, since he didn’t say anything.

The Red Inn lived up to its reputation. I ordered a bottle of champagne, but was very careful not to drink more than one glass. This was not a night for me to get drunk. We ended up taking the rest of the bottle along with us as we left.

By the time we got back to our room, the sunset was fading over the ocean and we were both comfortably full of food. I was just wondering how best to put my plan into operation when Logan pulled a fresh cigar out of his pocket and asked, “You mind if I go out on the balcony to smoke?”

“Go right ahead. I vill get ready for bed.”

While Logan sat outside, I searched through his duffel bag until I found the lube I had used last night, then I got undressed. Lying down in the middle of the huge bed, I dug a finger into the jar, and spread a glob of the sticky stuff over my anus. Then I relaxed back against the pillows and waited.

It wouldn't be long before Logan would come through the door. I knew what I wanted from him, and I knew how I was going to get it, sin and abomination be damned. I might regret this tomorrow, but I refused to consider that right now.

When he stood framed in the doorway, I leaned my head slightly forward, glancing coyly up at him from beneath my eyelashes. My lips turned upward in a slight smile, as I spread my legs slowly apart until they were nearly at a hundred and eighty degree angle, then dropped my tail straight down between my legs. I spread my arms out towards him, palms up. 

The invitation could not have been any more obvious if I had written it out on the wall, but he didn't react right away.

"Elf, you really sure this is what you want? If it's not, I won't force you."

"Ja. I vant it."

"No guilt?"

"No guilt," I lied, fully expecting the guilt to overwhelm me once my conscience had a chance to kick in. But right then I didn't care. I offered him my body, as he had offered me his the night before. With all my heart, I yearned to feel him inside me, wanted him to take what I knew should be his. I would have given him my life, if he had asked for it.

It only took a few minutes for him to get out of his clothes and coat his cock with lube. He climbed onto the bed between my legs, and said, "I'll go slow, darlin'. I won't hurt ya."

"No. It has been a long time, but I am no virgin, mein Freund." My legs clamped around his buttocks and I pulled him down on top of me. Even then, he was careful.

I responded to the pressure of his cockhead without thinking, as I had been trained to do so very long ago. He slid past the ring of muscle and sank deep into me only as he felt me relax and open for him. 

I gasped and whimpered softly with that ineffable feeling of satisfaction as I pulled him deeper with every sweet spasm that tightened around his throbbing cock. It was as if my soul stretched around him, welcoming the penetration with each hard clench of my muscles.

"Oh ja," I moaned. "Fick mich! Ahhh!"

Perhaps I reacted too enthusiastically, or maybe Logan was just too aroused to hold off, but he came almost immediately. I loved feeling him spasm inside me, even if it was far too soon. 

I had just about managed to gather myself together enough so that I wouldn’t show my disappointment if he pulled out, when he grabbed my hips and came up onto his knees, holding us still locked together but now with much of my weight on my shoulders, while he reared up over me.

"Don't move, Elf. I want more than that and I know you do too. Slide your legs up over my shoulders and bend your knees. That’s right. I wanna be in you until I’m ready again. You okay like that?”

“Of course.” At that point, I’d have been willing to stand on my head and offer him my ass, if that’s what it would take to keep him right where he was.

His hands slid down my body, kneading my chest with his fingers and rubbing his palms roughly across the stiff nubs of my nipples, so hard that it almost hurt. Arching my body, all I could do was groan at the intense sensation that combined pleasure with pain.

When he’d had enough of that, he ran his hands down both sides of me until he was once more clutching my hips. From my vantage point, I could see my own cock, swollen hard and flushed bluish-purple, with my balls pulled tight at the base.

Very slowly, Logan started rocking back and forth against me, barely enough to produce any real sensation, but I could feel him hardening inside me even so.

Since my tail was already between his legs, I lifted it up and pressed the wide base into the crack of his ass, flexing it against his hole in time with the rocking. 

"Oh yeah, keep it up, darlin'."

I managed a grin. "That is precisely vhat I am trying to do, mein Schatz."

"Did you just call me your sweetheart?"

"Ha! Is that a problem? You just called me darling, nicht wahr?"

"I guess I did, at that."

In reply, I flexed the end of my tail up over his shoulder and with my usual unerring accuracy, speared his nipple hard with the tip. He cried out in surprise, but by then I had dealt the other nipple a stinging blow also. When I raised the tip to his lips, he opened his mouth to receive the end and sucked on it intently. The motion of his hips increased dramatically. My ass tightened harder on his reviving erection. The feeling of his tongue on my tail became maddening. No one had ever done that before. I had no idea it would feel so good.

By this time, we were both heaving and thrusting, moaning incoherently as we gasped for breath.

His cock pressed deep into me, hitting that so sensitive place inside with each stroke. I wanted to hold back, to savor this keen anticipation just a little longer, but I could not. I convulsed around him, even as I saw my quivering cock begin to pump out its cum across my belly and chest.

Logan let go just a second after I did.

How can I describe what happened then? It was as if something had been dammed up inside me for years, and suddenly the dam had burst. My insides were still thrilling to the intensity of my orgasm, but as Logan’s seed filled me, it was as if an intense love for all creation poured into me also. I was making love to the entire world, and to God Himself, in all His radiant glory. I wanted it to last forever.

At one and the same time, that other thing that I had once called my conscience screamed in condemnation, “This is sin! This is evil!”

"Nein!!” I objected, trying desperately to hold onto the glorious feeling that had overwhelmed my soul, even as the sensations were overwhelming my body in a fierce ecstasy. “My God is a God of love. I vill not believe this is not love."

Then something even stranger happened. It couldn't have lasted for more than an instant, but I saw what looked like Da Vinci's painting of the Last Supper, but it wasn't entirely the same. Instead of leaning back towards Peter, John, the Beloved Disciple, is leaning against Christ, as is described in John's gospel. Christ sits at the center of the long table, surrounded by his Disciples, celebrating the Passover just prior to his death. The remains of a meal are spread around the table. Jesus seems to be looking down at the table, or perhaps at young John.

I had barely even begun to realize what I was seeing when Jesus looked up at me, smiled very slightly, then pulled John closer and very deliberately kissed him on the lips. Then he looked back to me, and winked, still smiling. I heard a voice say distinctly, "Where love is, there God is also."

If I had really been there, my mouth would have been gaping open in astonishment, rather than what it was doing in reality, which was gaping open and moaning in delicious ecstasy as my orgasm continued to wash over me. 

Then it was over and everything faded, leaving me breathless and wild-eyed. But that last image remained branded on my mind, and always will be.

Was it real, or just what my imagination knew I wanted to see? How can I answer that in any meaningful way? All I know is that I was engulfed in an incredible upwelling of joy that came from deep inside my very being. And in that moment, a burden lifted from my heart, a burden that I had been carrying for so long that I no longer even noticed its weight. All the guilt, shame, and fear fell away and the only thing left -- was love. Love of Logan, love of so many good people I had known in my life, love of beauty and joy, love of the world and the entire universe, love of life in all its beauty and its horror. Love of God, who no longer condemned me for what I was, not for being gay and not for being a mutant. And finally, love and acceptance of myself as someone good and worthy of love, even if I am not always perfect. In one respect at least, I was whole again. I couldn't help it; I started to cry from the sheer joy.

"Du lieber Gott im Himmel!" I gasped aloud.

"Elf? What's the matter? You okay?" He was leaning over me, looking down in concern. "Is something wrong? Answer me, darlin'. Was ist los?"

"Nicht sorgen. Mir geht es gut, ganz gut," I managed to say through the tears. 

"For someone who says he's just fine and extremely happy, you sure look as if you're crying your eyes out." But his voice was no longer concerned, and he was smiling. "I mean, I know it was good, but was it *that* good? You look as if you've seen a ghost or something."

"Or something," I replied in a reasonably normal tone of voice. I took a deep breath and looked at Logan. I knew I couldn't tell him what I had seen. Not then, and not for many months afterwards, until he had known me long enough to realize that I was only half-crazy most of the time. So I settled for the obvious. "You really are the best there is at what you do."

He laughed, but somewhat sadly. "I wish to God that this truly was what I'm really the best at, but it's not. Thanks anyway, for sayin' it, darlin'."

I pulled him down on top of me and held him tightly. "Oh yes, it is.”

To this day, I don't know if he laughed or cried when I said that. Sometimes it can be hard to tell the difference. But he recovered quickly and we got up and headed into the bathroom to wash off the sweat and the cum, and possibly, the tears in our own eyes.

 

Later on, we settled down once again in the huge bed together, staring out the windows at the moon and stars, and drinking the last bit of leftover champagne.

"You know, Logan, I realized something tonight, something I should have figured out a long time ago."

"Yeah? What?"

"Just like anything else, sex can be used for good or for evil. It is not wrong. It is not sin. If anything, it is sacred."

"I'll drink to that," he replied, lifting his glass as if it were a toast.

"So vill I." We touched glasses a little too enthusiastically and some of our champagne splattered onto his bare chest. I bent down and licked it off, then we both drained our glasses. Putting them aside, we settled down to go to sleep.

"I think I vill be sorry to leave here tomorrow."

"I'm always sorry to leave P'town, darlin'. Always. Now stop talkin' and go to sleep."

"Jawohl, mein Herr," I replied, snuggling against his back as he turned over.

 

The following morning, we had a fine breakfast at Land’s End before packing our things for the last time and loading them onto the motorcycle.

I pulled on the boots and picked up my helmet, then I looked directly at Logan.

"I do not think I vill be going back to Germany anytime soon."

"Good. Because I want you here with me."

 

"And so, mein Freund, to this day I am still here vith him, even though many years have passed since that trip to Provincetown. I have never regretted that decision. Of course, it has not alvays been easy, but nothing is alvays easy, nicht wahr?” 

 

 

GERMAN TRANSLATIONS

Verdammt! Damn!

nicht wahr? isn’t it so?

Was ist los? What’s wrong?

Auf wiedersehen, Herr Wagner Good-bye, Mr. Wagner

mein junger Freund my young friend

Mein lieber Gott im Himmel! My dear God in heaven!

Unmöglich! Impossible!

Ich will dich. Fick mich. I want you. Fuck me.

Du lieber Gott, was hab’ ich getan?! Dear God, what have I done?!

mein Schatz my sweetheart

Du lieber Gott im Himmel! Dear God in heaven!

Nicht sorgen. Mir geht es gut, ganz gut. Don’t worry. I’m fine, just fine.

Jawohl, mein Herr! Yes, sir!

MY LOGURT STORIES  
STORY ARC – Movieverse   
In the Beginning . . .   
After X-2, Kurt is considering what to do next. My slant on how he gets involved in the climax of X-3, then finds himself attracted to Logan despite his own religious issues. They take a very interesting vacation on Cape Cod, in order to spend time together and try to resolve what they want from each other, if anything.   
Please note that this story contains many links to real places on the Cape, but the links don’t always work reliably, so if you want to see them, you may need to copy/paste the URLs.   
http://xmen.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=600091204&chapter=1   
http://archiveofourown.org/works/1040785 

Morning Devotions  
It’s almost 2 years after the Battle of the Golden Gate Bridge. In addition to being an X-Man, Kurt has recently begun teaching classes at the School.   
Please note that this is the original short prologue for this entire story arc, which was written long before “In the Beginning” was even imagined. While the prologue is rather tame as far as sex is concerned, the succeeding stories will more than make up for this lack. Each story can be read alone, but they are better in order. See the AO3 version of Something a Little Different, which includes Morning Devotions as a prolog.   
http://xmen.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=600090821 

Something a Little Different  
When Logan wakes Kurt up in the middle of the night, Kurt just figures he wants the usual sex. But tonight, Logan wants something a little different.   
http://xmen.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=600090822   
http://archiveofourown.org/works/1040865   
(AO3 is the combined version of Morning Devotions and this story)

As the Twig is Bent  
Wie der Zweig gebogen wird , so wächst der Baum. As the twig is bent, so grows the tree.   
And Herr Grüber has long-range plans for the resulting tree.   
Logan pushes Kurt into revealing some of the dark secrets of his childhood.   
http://xmen.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=600090851   
http://archiveofourown.org/works/1040877 

PRAY FOR US SINNERS  
More secrets, from both Kurt’s past and Logan’s present.   
http://xmen.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=600090852   
http://archiveofourown.org/works/1040902 

With Nothing on My Tongue  
Logan is off somewhere trying to decide what direction he wants his life to take, while Kurt waits anxiously for his return. After several months pass, he is almost ready to give up hope.   
Two very different women help him get through this difficult time, each in her own inimitable way.   
http://xmen.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=600090873   
http://archiveofourown.org/works/1040920 

You Win, Elf  
Logan returns to tell Kurt of his decision.   
http://xmen.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=600090894   
http://archiveofourown.org/works/1040930 

Hell Hath No Fury  
Someone from Logan’s past appears – and that someone plans to take revenge on the one who scorned him .  
http://xmen.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=600090950   
http://archiveofourown.org/works/1040948 

 

  
TWO SHORT STORIES WHICH COULD BE EITHER COMIC OR MOVIEVERSE

Let’s Pretend  
Just about any time after Kurt and Logan have been together for a while.   
http://xmen.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=600090964   
http://archiveofourown.org/works/965765 

 

Happy Birthday, Elf!  
On a certain day in November, Kurt receives a very special present. Just a bit of fluff. No Sex.   
http://xmen.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=600091000   
http://archiveofourown.org/works/989660 

 

  
COMICVERSE – Single stories that fit into X-Men comic issues. If you haven’t read the comic referenced after each title, the story may not make much sense to you.

HOPE X-Force #36   
Just before he dies, Kurt gives Hope a message to deliver to Logan.  
http://xmen.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=600090809   
http://archiveofourown.org/works/982644 

Revenge! Wolverine #15  
While Logan climbs the mountain to jump off yet again, he is visited by Kurt’s spirit.   
http://xmen.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=600090949   
http://archiveofourown.org/works/982648 

 

To Walk Away from Paradise Amazing X-Men: Quest for Nightcrawler #1-5 At the end of this series, we left Kurt sitting on the roof agonizing about having lost his soul. What if Logan didn’t leave him there alone after all? (If you haven’t read my Kurt Darkholme series, some of the references to past happenings in this story may be confusing.)  
http://archiveofourown.org/works/1856817 

 

The Monster Ultimate X-Men Annual #2  
After Rogue tells a supposedly unconscious Kurt that he is truly a monster, Logan tries his best to convince him otherwise..   
http://xmen.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=600090893   
http://archiveofourown.org/works/981587 

 

The Best You Can Hope For Astonishing X-Men # 44-47 & 59-61, X-treme X-Men # 1-13, Age of Apocalypse # 13 & 14, and X-Termination # 1+2  
James Howlett tells about his relationship with young Kurt Waggoner. As he tries to teach the boy what it means to be a hero, young Kurt has a lesson to teach him in return.   
No sex.   
http://xmen.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=600091203   
http://archiveofourown.org/works/979462 

COMICVERSE  
KURT DARKHOLME STORY ARC   
Der Doppelgänger Set between Uncanny X-Force #23 and #24  
Kurt Darkholme and Logan end up in bed together.   
http://xmen.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=600090999   
http://archiveofourown.org/works/1091062 

 

Of Angry Elves and Mouthy Mercenaries Set several days after Bobby’s death in UXF #24, and prior to what happened in Deadpool #50-54. Also prior to Betsy and Fantomex’s departure from X-Force in #25.  
Kurt Darkholme and Wade Wilson get to know each other better, among other activities. 

http://xmen.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=600091017   
http://archiveofourown.org/works/1091097 

 

Hinter Meine Masken (Behind My Masks) Takes place sometime after UXF-26 when they have a night free.  
Logan, Kurt Darkholme, and Deadpool deepen their involvement with each other.   
http://xmen.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=600091081   
http://archiveofourown.org/works/1091306 

 

Vengeance Is Mine Uncanny X-Force #32-34  
After Kurt Darkholme betrays X-Force, he faces a private reckoning of his own . 

 

http://xmen.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=600091156   
http://archiveofourown.org/works/1091373 

 

Say Very Softly After Astonishing X-Men #59  
Kurt Darkholme and Deadpool have one last fling. 

http://xmen.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=600091183   
http://archiveofourown.org/works/1091440 

 

The Only Thing   
Set after the end of the X-Termination story arc  
What if Kurt Darkholme survives? 

http://xmen.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=600091259   
http://archiveofourown.org/works/1091522

**Author's Note:**

> For any of my readers who enjoy stories involving male/male sex in general, I’ve started a series of ebooks on Amazon that is not fanfiction. It doesn’t involve Logan, Kurt, or any other superheroes, but my two main characters are heroes of a more everyday kind, each in his own way. You can find out more about it at: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00J75NJIE and http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00M0CZM3G


End file.
